As a prairie fire, you've torn through all the safeguards I had in place and you threaten to jump the fireline I burned in my own flesh to keep from going up in flames again. There are currently moments when all I want to do is scare you off, wave the flames in front of your face so you startle and dash back to the place from where you crept so many nights ago. I wake up drenched, not with rain but with the sweat and anxiety of uncertainty, my mind changing frames faster than a movie playing in perpetual fast-forward. And I sit, paralyzed, wondering if I have the courage to take back what I feel is being stealthily stolen from me as I sleep.
Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding. But at my door you remain. And the fire burns on. And there's still no relief... no rain.
T
No comments:
Post a Comment