A mosquito drawn to a lamppost
she convinced herself that he
was a glimpse of heaven.
what kind of a metaphor was this
in her weary wandering mind
carbon and flame
how could someone be one
and the same
as the blind hands that strangle her
and the blinding light that draws her in
she couldn't possibly understand.
Hypnotize.
Somehow she'd promised him
to love without wanting or needing
but candles need tending
or else they'll burn out
she lived in pitch black.
Brown eyes cloudy,
staring gently at ink words
delicate fingers turning crisp pages
reading of triumph and goodness
she thought of him
but was he the prince
or the firebreathing dragon?
Fears and failures
imperfections
beauty and blue eyes
perfection
she was blind
naïve
mesmerized by the siren's song
a gravelly male voice
that somehow still
could draw her in
time and time
again
and again.
A mosquito drawn to a lamppost
searching for beauty
flying too close
will sizzle and
burn to forgotten dust.