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The Moth And The Flame In My Own Story
just this morning
i look at you seeing to it that you shall not notice it
to be honest, i look at your legs for they excite me making me a flying bird inside my small dark world
a night of myself
for if you notice, what has it get to do with you
anyway
just this morning i keep an image of your pair of legs
and they will excite me the whole day
as though i am
victorious
i do not wish that you will recompense me for being foolish for being true in loving you
i do not wish to make myself stupid to make you love me
you see
there is this big difference this distance that i have measured and it is so near
to my destruction
and so i keep it simple and segregated
just your legs and my eyes, nothing more and nothing less
beyond this two shortest distance
are the restrained movements
i know, if i go beyond this, i become a moth getting too near
to a flame and then surely i will be burning my wings,
fall to the ground and die
or to be honest with you
i become wingless, and the lizard nearby shall swallow me whole
mercilessly.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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