For something intangible.

it is meeting you after the war of time
the absence of feelings beyond what is felt.
it is our morning that comes with bells that chime.

winning your heart does not guarantee a belt
I can tie to my waist and say I fought hard
and tell tales as my queen or my Roosevelt.

Does it ever work between you and a bard?
or between brimstone and ice, tall boys and mermaids?
Tonight, all that hurts are winds that leave me scarred.

so bust me open so I leave these arcades,
you do me no good burying me at noon
as you call me sweetheart and build barricades.

being happy suddenly feels like it’s immune
to me who is wind, tornado and sand dune.

Ruddapoet

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