The Poetry of you

What are you?

Are you the bronze leaf that sways around the grasp of my fingers?
Or the twilight breeze, cold and ephemeral that fades at the touch of dawn?
Are you the peculiar whisper of joy I feel?
A respite from the merciless insanity
That feeds my soul and shatters my mind
To cling to the shadows of my heart?

What sort of a girl are you,
To love me with a threat of the unraveling you will do?

What will you be?

A revelation that is the eye of the storm?
A pale apparition, always present at the edge of my vision, but forever out of grasp?
A hand to clutch as I unwound under the grip of madness?
Or will you be another shadow I watch walk away?
To join the shadows of many others under whose glare I've begun to fade?
But would you, in that flicker of a moment, turn back?
To become the inhale of the ashes I would surely be, and carry me in your heart forever?

What sort of a girl will you be,
The only handprints on the fissures of my heart they will see?

But I know as I cling to you now
That what you will be is the sea in which I drown
For you may not be mine, as you belong to yourself alone
Yet I know as I press my lips against your heart, that you will ignite my shackles
And watch them burn, to  escape from my scars and see me free
So intertwine with me, wild as you are and I will lose my breath in the insanity of you

What sort of a girl you are, I've learned to know this part
You are a thrill of storms and scars and you are the poetry that resounds with the rhythm of my heart