Love slips nimbly through my fingers
like a dull scorching knife
Takes all I can’t give

She laughs softly, a lion
assessing its prey

and fiercely, I cower in the corner
like I always have done.

Realism refreshes like
leaping off a ship into clear blue winter water,
icicles prickling my hands

Life floats at me like a cannon,
presses gentle, lovely arrows
into my fragile skin

I love until I can’t want more,
but still I do,
the ease and the clarity and the confidence
like navigating a familiar room in the dark.

And I live and live and keep expecting
metaphors
but instead I get this logic tied in knots.