Intersect

In sorrow we intersect in the dark we
Reach our fingers toward the fire
We crackle and melt inside we feel
One another identical yet fearful we
Cannot accept the unity of pain.

This grumpy day is the same
Withering coal
At the core of the fire into which
I fling my broken hearts.

In joy we disassociate in the light we
Bind our arms and forget to tend the fire
We simmer and explode inside we hollow
Out more space for self and self
Cannot fathom the isolation of joy.

This warm breeze is the same
Convulsive bliss
At the perimeter of our hearts which
Fling sparks into the rivening dark.