When the Centrifuge Winds Down

The butterflies flew off some weeks ago. Pools of blood from my pierced heart have dried up. My feelings leak insignificant flow - I no longer drink from passion's sweet cup. Still, you must realize that love never dies, for it derives from more than skittish heart. My soul and my eyes could never disguise - I still hope that our story soon might start. Tamer, now - fire, somewhat softer - desire, but, for all that, hardly less strong or true. I've guessed from first glance - your face - angel's choir! I still think it could be right - me and you. I'll admit - sometimes I taste fear in wait. But love is patient ... I submit to fate. 6 May 2023