Bleeding Curiosity

Where my love goes your mystery cannot fade. Yet my curiosity can wilt without your active support, contagious nourishment, never-ending flames of wonder that this love you could persist with me. How could we possibly not share our lives, mutually disinvest of mysteries that would fade dampened? Yet without active curiosity mystery fails hopeless to know more, even though love’s thirst for internal history and self-creation stories becomes too easily quenched by cooperative post-climatic adjustments, aging continental plates earth-quaking our chronically mutual myths, and their before and after logos shocks. Where my love goes your history could not fade, yet dark fading curiosity of aging eyes and ears and minds can blend these my well-deserved contentment feeding flame’s remorseless desire to continue this co-blind mystery of love’s deep and blissful well-fed curiosity.