Sparks of Feeling

tremulous,
my heart rattles the cages of my mind
every thought
ringing
with your name
it is not a prayer.
I do not allow myself prayers.

to pray is to hope,
and to hope is to dare.
I am not daring.

some days I am unsure
whether my mind has my heart in a vice
or that same heart is the fist
clenched around my thoughts.

it seems foolish of me
to try and find words for this need
the aching dreams of you
that neither time
nor distance
could quell.

mine is not a mind or a heart
trapped by the unique.
and yet we try repeatedly –
futilely –
to conjure words that justify
how easily desire can become pain

because we are all fools
weighed down by wisdom.

If you enjoyed this poem and would like to read more, you can find more of my poetry here on the blog!