The Burn of Distant Beauty

It's acid when you're beautiful.

I turn and self-distract; dutiful.

I dread your teeth marks.

Yet I friction to sparks.

So close, like fingertips;

ice that melts until I slip;

scorching rage inside out;

accidents that aren't allowed. 

All the warnings blare.

Though I look for triggers to snare.

I rip myself in two; 

hoping for and against you. 

I know you're out of reach

and so my blood is leached

because your dangers sing

I hold; still burning. 

Your lips are graced with song

and my ears sing along

but I must mute to suit

the fog horn and safety shoot.

So I scream another hymn

and clinch teeth in chagrin,

nail my feet to the floor

and try not to want you more.

But every lilt and every sigh

stings and gouges my eyes.

The curl and dance of your hair

singes my chest and I clench and bare.

Your graceful walk strums encores

and echos and peals and bores.

One day I'll have her; my chorus.

You will be ripped away for us.

Then all the chemical scaring

will heal and end the marring.

But until the distant then

I will lye and burn again.