match

Standard

striking a match is an art
and the curve of your shoulder into your neck rising
is music to my ear
as i unfold each fear
lay it splayed out in front of you
vulnerable aggression seeps out
in bursts of frightened tantrums
evolving rapidly
into ecstasy

you call me by my name so unfamiliar
to non-ancient ears ringing with humility and haste

for the first time i am aware that it is me
who provides the mystery
and it is me then
who treads warily
answering to a name that has no definition
having to accept blindly that all is right
and all is good
having nothing to hold on to but trust in you
in the expanse and kindness
of our love

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