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