Bleeding Curiosity
Where my love goes
your mystery cannot fade.
Yet my curiosity can wilt without your active support,
contagious nourishment,
never-ending flames of wonder
that this love
you could persist with me.
How could we possibly not share our lives,
mutually disinvest of mysteries
that would fade dampened?
Yet without active curiosity
mystery fails hopeless to know more,
even though love’s thirst for internal history
and self-creation stories
becomes too easily quenched
by cooperative post-climatic adjustments,
aging continental plates
earth-quaking our chronically mutual myths,
and their before and after logos shocks.
Where my love goes
your history could not fade,
yet dark fading curiosity of aging eyes and ears
and minds
can blend these my well-deserved contentment
feeding flame’s remorseless desire to continue this co-blind mystery
of love’s deep and blissful well-fed curiosity.
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