independence day

Magic sparks and shimmers

across the sky

it'd take a fool to try

to hold that hot flame

captured until it's cold.

A dead cylinder

in the palm of your hand,

to capture the glowing magic of night

and hold it in a jar,

only to wake up and realize

that you killed it dead.

What was once a luminous mystery

now a sterile tangle of legs and feelers.

If my thoughts of you

were like locks of hair,

I'd wind them up in my fingers

until the golden tendrils

became so curled and kinked

that it hurt to be turned,

I couldn't let go.

I am the berry plump and juicy,

ready to be picked.

You are the thorn, sharp and hidden,

ready to prick.

Now it's independence day,

so drop away

drop away.