She wears it
like a cloak
around her heart,
padlocked in steel
that melts red hot
every time
she sees him.
The flame of passion
resonant,
as her voice
echoes his name,
the softening
of her face
after the open wound
ceased to ache
so desperately,
though it may never close.
Rawness only tempered
the wildness of love
subdued, unintoxicated for now.
Revival of memories
quicken the heart,
carrying her
to the precipice
of hope
to recreate
the highs and lows
of a forbidden past.
She writes,
that we may know
her subjectivity,
and she is safe.
amn... where'd the emoticons go anyway? ...
