The chemicals are all in the air
ready to re-combine,
bonds of love beyond mere steel
snap open harmlessly,
the shortened circuit to myself
has switched polarities,
electric's flipped magnetic
and my thoughts now stand exposed
as my own only. To think
I could be seen inside the coverings
of trees, my heart to become real
in another's head — bless me,
I know not what I do, clinging to
the role asked by my story,
which only has one purpose, now, to end.
A tale told by mistake, and that's OK
it didn't touch the flame I really am,
who waits with patient nursing of the torch,
for poetry to rise out of the prose,
uniqueness uncontained within the whole.