her name was disaster.
an eternal disaster that no one knew what to do about.
and when she started
spelling out her name
they knew everyone was done for.
i couldn’t understand how she could do it--
her talent too hard to master,
too hard to be so easy,
too hard to perceive,
too hard to forget.
she wore a mask of deceit every day
to be just as cold as her freezing palms in the incessant winter.
never did she ask
for permission to know she was always right.
she wore a mask of success even though
i knew that there was sacrifice
hiding in her maliciousness.
but her unattainable invitation of knowledge
turned my cowardice into audacity instantly.
shock written clearly on her face when
i realized that all thousand
of her wishes
had become mine as well.
faster and faster i collapsed into her aromatic being
she never gave me a promise of even a handful
yet my fragile
her eyes a ripple in the still lake
her skin a part of the darkened pavement
her words a distant light flickering bright burgundy
her smile a beam of moonlight on a crisp, warm winter night
her touch a delicate caress of a pebble worn down to utter perfection
her stride a swift breeze quietly embracing the leaves of the great redwoods
her voice an orchestral performance with crickets who have yet to find a new song
her presence a dance of raindrops on my cracked window when i can’t even sleep at 2:56 am
her name was disaster
but she was a blessing to my heart.