The First Bullet:
I know you love me,
like I know that on rainy winter days,
the sun still shines.
I know you love me,
like I know, when I look at my grandparents'
black and white wedding album,
that people there sang and made merry.
The Second Bullet:
You tell me you love me,
but to hear me say I love you,
or that this is a relationship,
makes you run away.
You tell me you think of me,
but all your words,
are of lovers past.
You tell me you feel me with you,
but you tell me to not rely on you,
to not turn to you.
The Third Bullet:
In the dark places within my chest,
a long-forgotten flower,
finally bloomed, with your sunlight.
In the lighted caverns within my chest,
a fruit budded,
flushed with juices, and life.
In the now-tight caverns within my chest,
a fruit is ripe,
waiting to be picked.
In the waiting caverns within my chest,
an over-ripe fruit hangs,
spreading corruption.
The Fourth Bullet:
I take to paper,
to excise the poison,
to draw life out,
to return the cavity to a fragrant state,
where the rampant life
is contained once more.
I bleed myself,
and stop,
at the state of the flower.
I cannot go further,
though I wish it.
The Penultimate Bullet:
You keep me in a jar,
on your mantle.
I am your treasure,
you say.
You look at me,
when you wish for summer,
to light through the mists of time.
You listen to me sing,
when you wish reminders,
of your many glories.
You keep me in a jar,
inside your heart.
And during the long months,
when you have no need of me,
I think of flying away,
to where I will be treasured,
every day.
Yet it is the smallest sliver
of expectations,
that presses me down.
The smallest bone
of expectations,
that pins me down.
The smallest emotion of them all,
that keeps me chained,
and unflying.
Hope is the penultimate bullet.
Thanks to @whoshim, @carmalain7, @jrhughes, @carolkean, @moeknows, @dbooster, and @mamadini for their feedback and support on this piece, and with what it depicts. The piece came out as part of making things better, as one of the sections references.
Check out my latest posts:
- Legends Of... - Mythic parables in the form of poetic prose.
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Art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics
The image used is Baldr's Death by Christoffer Wilhelm Eckersberg, 1817, and is public domain.
© Guy Shalev 2018.