Minefield

Love is a landmine;
a wasteland filled with critical pressure
and life-changing explosions

A misguided step; a poorly placed feather,
and suddenly your heart is ripped from you
and plastered on the dry desert floor.

A foot hold and it’s done –
do not move –
do not breathe –
do not flinch.
You’re committed to the death, be it by
starvation, explosion or luck

And you’d do it over and over again
for one more chance to make it to the other side
Alive. Unscathed.

Love is a minefield.
No experience makes your heart more prepared:
No one sees what lies beneath the surface:
No prior crossing makes the risk any less.

All you can do is tread lightly and pray
that each footstep is not the one
that blows you to pieces in the dust.

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