Heaven

I am living heaven, a crystal heaven so fragile that might anytime crack itself into a spider web mosaic. This is exactly what I have asked for, but I just don't know what to do with this transient beauty. Spellbound, clueless.

You are my heaven. Is this trite? The truth is often too trite, so have a listen anyway. You are heaven, a property of your own. I can't complete you nor imprint my existence onto your ethereal kingdom, but you complete me and it just might be all I need. Undeserved transient eternity.

Spring, the blossom. Petals in spiral, dancing and dancing. Music, art, poetry. Street bards spilling obscurity. Red bricks and lipsticks. Lonely cul de sac, patiently awaiting intrusion.

You are my hell. Curtains catching on fire in the absence of smoke alarm. Extinguishers out of powder, jungles of flares untamed. Destruction, turbulence, gravity. Scream. Lovescream.

Ah, the knowledge. Fear, hope, and futility. Scenes and cuts passing by. Fast. Death. Heaven collapses.