banging behind a screen
they had heard all of this before
insipid psycho-theory

but now knew
in the most quiet
reticent alone
instinct of knowing

the only real way out
was a tiny tear in the fabric
the distant light of liberation
almost perceptible

she saw it all
and knew the path

exceedingly dangerous
tiny soft paper thin bodies
getting scraped by metal fragments
but wholly worthwhile

he could not hide from her
for she was the same breed
as him
he met his perfectly crafted
she match
correctly aged
trying to convince himself of
comfort behind the mesh

in the farthest polarity of
love and hate
desire and fear
pious and pathological
sordid and sublime

trauma and triumph
cruel, callous and yet,
sincerely kind

can deep disorientation
be wiped away
with one mere gesture?

however irrational
she loved him anyway


means just that
the type of love
only one other could ever offer
coming closer now
one chance

he could take her wing
two intermittent flames
bravely forging forward
or recede, dimming again

wait to see
they could indeed
never forget
she would find her way out
or without him