Setting the Record Straight

There are metaphors that
were never adequately explained
to my poet’s mind.

When sparks fly and
the heart burns like fire,
What ends for love?

And why is biology,
semiotics and linguistics
pinned to the table of elements?

For me, it seems that the
heart is ensconced in warm blanket
by the softness of arms,

Thoughts drawn from lips that
quiver with another’s,
Eyes shivering under stare,

Philosophical inquiries when
wondering of thoughts,
Reading minds like the

psychological impossibility
that dances above the ones
drowning in compulsion,

Obsession fuelled by distances,
Great and small,
Separating the rising temperatures

that grow over time,
Entangled in the vines
pulling closer and closer.

There are metaphors that
were never adequately explained
to my poet’s mind,

Yet I adore you still.

setting the record straight

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