Flaming Star

or, as it has been requested by someone, Paradox in Love

my restless mind is asking for
kindness, and
silence.
but all I ever got from you are
speeding heart, and fire,
and flame, and flame, and flame.

I'm tired of this impossibility;
being in the edge of
romance and
nothing,
with the knowledge that we can,
but we aren't,
with the fact that we could be,
but we'll never be.

what do you want out of this?
I want it, this, us--you
but what you want is something less than us,
yet more than nothing,
an intricate line
in between.
you are sentencing us
into a world where
everything is never enough,
only necessary, only good enough, but not more--
more than what we are capable of.

though we both know that
we can't want--
because after wanting
comes needing,
and needing is a luxury.

we can only want in silence,
in our eyes,
speaking in words we never convey;
maybe only there we could exist together,
in spaces between unexchanged words,
eye contacts, and
fleeting touches.

you are in denial,
escaping from answering the very question
that reality is asking--
where are you going with this?
what's easier than answering the question
that has been tainting our friendship
and setting it on fire?
why are you trying to ignore the fact
that you are the firestarter?

when what you are asking for
is the same
with what I am asking,
then why are we not blooming?
why are we not blossoming
into supernova,
consuming everything
that we have to offer to each other?

what are we going to do about us?
before both of us are running out of
time, space,
and patience.
let's create a little supernova,
something bright, magnetic,
all-consuming,
though it's all only for awhile.

why can't you acknowledge
the very gravitational pull
that we have with each other?

well, perhaps,
I'm never going to be good enough to have