Poetry by Linda M. Crate

You want the light magic and dream of me
without having to face
the nightmares,
but nothing good comes for free;
Magic comes at a price, darling,
and i’m someone you cannot afford so i would
keep walking if i were you
instead of wasting your time here
Yes, it’s true, i aspire to always be light and love
flowers and dreams and peaceful streams,
but that’s just not realistic;
Sometimes i am fangs and blood
war and unreasonable demands
knives and daggers
and my tongue is the blade that cuts deeper than the bones—
I am intense, passionate, and a dreamer
full of paradoxes and confusion;
deep wells of kindness and sharp daggers of regret
my heart is a rose with petals of kindness but also with the sharpest of thorns
I know the darkest parts of me would conspire only toward your defeat
so seek me not—
I am not the type of flower you pluck from the ground
because if you truly loved me you would leave me where i stood
love is appreciating someone and not seeking to possess them,
and i am too wild to be owned;
I must instead be admired.

Read it in the July Opal Magazine!

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