Monday, December 5, 2011

Where the Wild Things Are


There is a wild beating in my chest
But it is hardly my heart.
It is the blood and the thunder and the heat seeded lightning
That comes when we are together.
When frantic whispers tangle my hair and the night lifts and opens to let us in.
To allow us to be taken down, exalted, bent and bruised and marked by the purple stain of each other's love.
Night is for lovers after all.
Lovers like wolves who dance around each other all evening, 
And then in the darkness devour.
Taking stolen moments, and stumbled upon chances to disappear into one another.
This is where the wild things are
This is where the ground rises beneath my feet
This is where we are man and animal, timid and beast, alive and dying, flying and falling all at the same time
This is where the sea crashes against us, and we have never been more alive.

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