I’ve been thinking about
This poem you sent me
All fucking morning.
Driven by instinct
Or some shit.
To find a different meaning.
Troubled by nothing, I guess.
Restless about my mothness, perhaps.
And then I saw my reflection
In the curse of the flame.
That cannot see its beauty,
dances to tiny winds from devoted wings,
always waiting to dance.
Unable to move closer to its lover.
Then.
The moth finally commits,
And
Its energy is transformed.
It can no longer feel the flame.
Or feed it.
The affair is finished.
In the most intimate moments
When there are no other moths
The flame does not exist,
Perceived by nothing.
Then I realized
my life loop.
To demand all
To be given everything
To feed on love
And so destroy it
And remain
Insatiable
Until extinction.
