Knife’s edge

Sassy has missed this one. Also Lithium. I have been waiting, but I tire of the wait.

I like the imagery in it; the wolf, the lover, the clothing, the piano. The levitation before the staircase. When I looked at it, I left to play the piano a little while, but it nearly woke this elder son.

I never reach this point with lovers. It is not masochism, nor an appreciation of sadism. It is loyalty of course, but I come to understand it is other things.

I have been reading much about divorce and such and I appreciate it. I mourn the absence of Li, of San, of Lohr and the rest. But there is much to which I cannot relate as well. I think tonight I begin to understand it.

It is because for me, all love is pain from the beginning. A pain in which I delight at turns, rail at others. Writhe and gasp and all the rest.

What is a leaving but another colour in the rainbow? Not one with which I would choose to paint my walls, but one cannot wave the crystal before the candle and not invite it.

I sent a message to my archangel and he understood. One day likely it will be the same, but this day is not that day. I am glad.

To be witch and to be cold is merely drama. But to love, and still be witch – that is to balance on the knife’s edge. And I am the knife’s edge.


About Jenn

Find me on Twitter @JennGruden
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