"...to dance with you till we're both dead."

rings in a set of two • pov gj

pov: gong jun

--

I wear my heart

on my sleeve

in the hope that you'll see it.

I establish a tale

with blood and bone

but I've a fear

that you might find it.

I fold a dowry

of

things unsaid,

lines un

finished,

secrets unraveled:

of pages not yet turned,

letters not yet sent,

words not yet said, paths

not yet taken.

The quill

is in

my hand.

My journal

is yours

to keep.

Stars duck behind the moments past.

Moons flicker above the souls entwined.

A blindfold,

some faith,

and a touch of stupidity.

They will never dare again

to tread these halls.

Play not oft

with poetry.

Believe not ever

in despair.

It is vain to make sense of idiocy,

folly to undo what is done.

But I know you.

Know the shape

of your tear stains

on paper,

the strain of your voice

in pain.

I'd sooner unwind

my skin

then yours,

sooner erase

my name

from these soiled walls.

Here.

I'll take your hand

and lead you forward

onto this story unfurling.

From between the lines,

we stumble to life.

Love, in a duet of impulse.

Rings, in a set of two.