Love is an iron fist

Your affection is ugly. Tyrannical.
Your allegiance lies in falsehood, imagination and memory.

Only the opposite will suffice in order to tame your immense and unfaltering tide. I fear that it is not my weak mind that needs to be changed, but my heart. You are uncouth and brash but when I close my hands into a cup I feel you like a butterfly’s wing, you are enigmatic. Your presence so brief but effect lasting, etched and ghostly.

I will deny and I will stifle, I will fade into the dancing light and flicker in your mind from time to time but amount to nothing more than a beautiful scar upon your inked and olive skin.

I was sinking to the bottom, to the depths. I clothed myself in gilded shrouds to die a lady, a princess, an apparition. The mutiny claimed my being but my soul became a vehicle for lessons.


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