"What is it like to love him?"
Whispers the small voice that rests at the base of my skull
"It's like being disentombed from the shambles of my former ideas of love
It's like finally being seen after being held captive in an intermittent darkness
Being heard after an eternity of silence", I answered
"I was taught that the love you give
Will not always be the love you receive", I told the inquisitive voice
But somehow, someway
He made sure I knew that is one of the lessons that aren't taught correctly
By jumping leaps and bounds over my wildest conjectures
I was always the tiny flame that cold hearts warmed themselves around
Was told to not let my flame get too big because it's intimidating
Until I met him
He doused my flames in gasoline and sent them soaring toward the skies
Though instead of fleeing
He sat and admired the wildfire he created
Not intimidated, not taken aback
"But what is it like being loved in returned by him?"
The voice was softer this time, almost afraid
"Have you ever wondered what unbridled joy feels like?" I asked
Because he's it.
YOU ARE READING
consumed
Poetry|3rd place poetry in The Butterfly Awards 2019 🦋| There are times in life where you become consumed by thoughts of many things. Instead of letting them overtake you, express them.
