You’ll understand when you’re older

You will bury Her somewhere 

Far beneath your own foundations;

Foundations on which you will build

Straight and narrow towers.

You will reach and rake at the clouded sky.

Your worship of absent futures

Will give you less than a reason to climb 

And more than an excuse to jump.

You will not, but not for fear of heights,

Rather, the far more damning fate:

She might catch you falling out of love. 

Most of you will one day forget

She was there at all, 


Forming crystals from your Earth. 

You will lose Her somehow,

Deep within your endless capacities;

Capacities to forgive, and to forget 

This teenage fever dream.

You will tame desire for your distraction,

And keep a manicured tulip garden:

Tall stalks and petals of hardened flesh,

Saturated with seduction, among other lies.

I know you dread Her eagerness 

That you should know your truth.

But the dread will ease and the questions follow 

And when Her fists, twisting in your throat and gut,

And Her name, bubbling against the inside seam of your lips,

Slips out in a kiss,

Quieter than whispers 

And louder than you’ve ever shouted,

It will be then.


Until you allow yourself to claim Her.

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