[Passionaria]

my soul flutters across words
like a butterfly
making love to flowers
imagination bursts aflame
paradise drips from my lips
I your muse
melt
the metal of your intellect
into flowing rivers
of emotion
and you paint a fantasy
of me
in colors
of how I make you feel
you love
how I make you feel

beloved fantasy
painted in the colors
of your want
you dream of me
and your prose flows free
even there
you killed me
choked the breath from me
rather
than taking a chance
on loving me
for real

when your painting
and my story collide
fantasies turn staccato
and judgment careens
from your glacial eyes
words become icicles of malice
served from your icebox heart
and the arctic wind of your soul
leaves my pierced heart
too cold to bleed