young life, young love.

By ayowyn   

i want to dig my hands in,
scratch deep into the flesh of life.
i yearn to draw blood and leave scars;
to have life under my fingernails
so i can carry it with me.
to leave something behind of myself.
how am i so tired without knowing what love is?
isn’t love supposed to be strong?
the war ending, world changing, spell breaking kind of strong?
why has it been so long since i’ve seen it?
maybe love is also aging,
dying with the rest of the world?
i wonder,
what was love like in its youth?
was it the ocean, relentless
changing tides and tsunamis
or fire in its bright destruction,
beautiful and terrifying
can it be both?
do you think, if i asked, love would answer?

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