ellipses...

we are icicles ready

to be shattered and

puddles already melted

the way the hero’s journey

is always bound to

winter.

 

we answer

with questions

and hang like ellipses

mid-air…

 

we know how

to wield

weapons but

we do not call

butchers ‘heroes’.

 

and we are our quest,

two parts

undiscovered

and one part

mapped out—

mostly in constellations—

rivers we must ford,

and mountains we must climb.

but even through valleys,

never did i think of you

and ink paper with warnings:

“here, there be monsters”

the way others screamed

with singed hair

and ashy lungs

after you burned them—

 

because we both know

the only dragons here

are the ones we let

make our hearts caves.

 

but i believe dragons guard treasures

of legendary value,

and someday,

when i am no longer afraid,

i can take up my arms

and whisper the promise.

 

the grail we both knew you already had:

“heart of gold.”

  

This poem is about: 
Me

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