He sits quietly on the couch, looking at me – no, searing my soul.
His sea-foam blue eyes devouring my every gesture, expression, sigh; memorizing it.
I look down at my journal and can feel all of his thoughts and emotions boring into me, branding me.
I will never be the same again, I am to blame, but it's all his fault.
Just when I thought I had recovered, and we were back to status quo, he does it again-
That look; burning my heart, charting it with so much intensity, it transmutes my broken, jagged edges.
Slowly softening, like pieces of frit under the watchful eye of a conservative artist.
Melting, adding silvers & golds, blending; new, radiant colors emerge.
Raw materials transform, become glorious aurenes & galaxies of color.
Only ashes litter the floor now.
All the broken shards, discarded by ghosts, amateurs feigning artistic heights unobtainable by "mere mortals" are incorporated.
That burning look which brands my very core – anneals all of the discarded pieces.
"What?" he queries.
"Nothing Babe." I whisper
"I love you Princess." he smiles.
My heart explodes.
Written 2/25/2021, Reformatted 1/2024
