Monster in my head

(NOTE: this is a work of fiction)

There’s a monster laid within my head who’s
ripping springs and chewing strings,
unravelling cords that bind my broken heart within.
Such a sneaky set of teeth it must possess!
to have the superpower
to so simply tear apart my strands of
horrible uncertainty,
and gnaw away the knots of fear
that’s fastened tight around my throat.

You’re not an ‘it’, I realise, but a paradox
of beauty in disaster; a breath in breathlessness –
unusual piece of messy art whose every bitten laugh is
drawn upon my messy mind,
eating up my every thought – except the one that wonders why

so eagerly you swallow all my bitter tears,
embrace my pain with yours; why you
reach beyond my chest and into tangled mess,
viewing all the cracks and crevices with a gentleness that
every other eye neglects?
Tell me why you lay so close when I am all but warm –
other creatures run away, why do you choose to stay?

But you bare your teeth at questions from my doubtful lips, and
enclose your arms about my frosty chest, till I’m melting

little by little, till I’m bare and warm and
ocean wide – unbound by ropes, and sailing into
vastness, away from narrow visions washed ashore.
Entranced I am by flaws that make you not monstrous but
daringly human – daring to love, daring to be loved.

(c) 2015 Katho28