Like a moth to a flame

I see your essence before I even look into your eyes.

They’re the windows to the soul.

But you don’t need a window.

You’re an open door, willing everyone to look.

Your light beams outward and like moths to a flame, they come.

Dancing, flitting, preening in front of you.

As if you would even look.

They do not know that you cannot see them, right there in front of you.

Your desires, your intricate delicacies sparkle for only one little moth.

Me.

The one that will get too close to your light.

The brightness bringing me to my knees, not knowing how to stand up again.

I will be lost in you, entangled even.

My delicate wings in danger from the burn.

It will almost be too much.

So I will fly away.

But little do I know, that moths need the light.

They crave it, they long for it, they die without it.

Alone I will be, in the darkness, watching from afar.

No other light can entice me the way you do.

Their brightness is too dim. Not enlivening. Not rich like yours.

And so I will come back, fluttering and prancing.

Remember me? I will say, and your arms will open in a wide embrace.

As if I never left.

But I didn’t leave. We hadn’t even started yet.

It’s just a moment from across the room.

A whole lifetime in a first glance.

This love of ours, entwined together. Forever.

Just as nature intended.