A letter to my love
Strange what fickle thoughts trickle through the space behind my eyes
Behind those wry windows through which you see far too deeply
Past the vanity that clouds my judgement when my soul is on fire in ways no other burn could comprehend
That fire which ravages all that is soft and pretty, which softens that which is hard with grief
For part of me was razed when we spoke for the second, first time. That sallow and bitter part birthed from the loss of one to whom I will always be devoted
This forgotten and found again scorching of the soul is painful in ways impossible to describe
But not for a second would I think to change it
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