If love conquers all,
why is my past littered with bodies
that burn like the streets of Cairo?
Have my thoughts run amok for so long
that there is no hope of them being tamed?
Can I ever truly be grasped,
or am I caught up, imploring the wrong lingo?
Should my jargon, perhaps,
reflect a more relationship-oriented treatise?
Because this lexicographer finds himself
at a surprising loss for words
to describe these feelings inside,
threatening to engulf my entire being.
Was not the blood, coursing through my veins,
born through another's blossoming love?
Is this my springtime? My revolution of self?
Must I pit two sides of a coin against one another
until some part of me is crushed beneath the other?
Will you sew me back together
after I have ripped myself apart
and help me mend the pieces of this newly remodeled heart
that I strangled in my hands
before tearing it asunder
for fear that it might house some dark secret
I'm not yet ready to confront?
Here is my surrender,
I'll lay it out for you:
Tread lightly o'er my Being
as you find your way inside.
Tiptoe through the dark
until I finally find the courage
to pull a candle from the bookshelf
and take you by the hand
to guide you through all the lonely hallways
I've built around myself.
Don't let my ego fool you;
I'm not as strong as I'd like you to think.
Be my Sphinx upon the Nile,
my pyramid in the boundless desert
and stand unyielding through the weather
I feel ready to send your way.