Volcano's Mass

Life 

Is that fragile thing, 

Delicacy of vase on a quaking table...

And the rages that lay dormant, 

Til the perfect trigger; 

Impact. 

Crater-riden, 

My surface holds all my beat..

But still I rotate, don't I? 

Still I am a mass. 

A mess. 

Awaiting the perfect triggers. 

I swear...

You fell in. 

Didn't ask for this, on this one...

(Or did I?)...

But I swear...

When you fell in...

You ruptured something beneath. 

And it's like awakening an irreversible shift. 

Now....

Well now, my NOW, is tinged...

With you. 

And attempts to erase. 

Attempts...

Attempts to walk away from the gamble this time.

Attempts to stop with chances. 

Attempts...

To put down...

Any love like this...

Thinking for some reason, it's epic? 

No...

Not epic, is it? 

At all? 

Is it? 

At all? 

No...

I think...maybe not...

I think...

I must think...

Maybe not..

Because love wouldn't do THIS? Would it? Not? 

Place my vase...

On a quaking table? 

Did this really happen? 

It did, right? 

Volcano, hatched? 

Broken shards..

Life...

Just letting...

As I watch it remain...

Tinged by you.