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Published:April 16th, 2010 10:28 EST
Ruby Fire

Ruby Fire

By S. D.

I shall write about love as no other person has,

For love to me is different.

No person can declare they recognize how I feel

For no person has felt as I have.

It is guilt, a bone-racking nervous twitch within me.

It is fear, magnified to the hundredth

Diluted then, again -

And then dulled, softened, as paper is softened by water.

I shall write about love as no other person has,

For I can rightfully claim

More knowledge of it than any other.

To have had but one love, I would be absurd -

I have had three,

I have had three thousand.

Every love possible - I`ve felt it,

And then the former loves of that love,

And of those loves,

And so on through this ridiculously endless masterpiece.

I shall write about love as no other person has,

For I have smelled its vanilla-raspberry scent

From the very essence, foundation.

I have had the organic fruit and the home-grown spice at my feet,

In the dusty regions of my heart,

Far too often to count,

As no being is able to count through every decimal to three.

And always, always I have not given up,

Until I have been sure that I will not be stranded -

Until I have been sure that I love again.

I shall write about love as no other person has,

For no other person can find love quite as worthless as I do.

No other person can wish more than I do

To be able to write about love

With the ignorant, monotonous, age-old clichés

Of burning passion,

Ruby fire.

No other person wishes less knowledge of love,

Only I.

And so, with nothing left to describe

I shall write about love as no other person has,

And alone read those words.