Cursed

I have never been so uncertain
or unsure 
or afraid of anything 
absolutely anything

There is no fear in a world of observation
I was sent to observe
But became an active participant
In the affairs of the mortal realm

And now I fear that the feeling in my gut. 
The feeling travelling 
up 
my 
gullet 
to pulse in my throat

I fear that feeling.
And I fear its meaning.

Again, the means to end the fear lives in my pocket, 
but the source 
the source
of the feeling does not.

He took from me

No

I gave to him
An apology
And tried to wring from him a promise -
Assurance he would be fine.
That he would return

That the fear I feel is for nought.

In return I received respect
And cursed my birth
(Another first)
For denying me
A lie
And trebling this troubling sense
 this fear that lives in my throat
and stoppers up my words.

A burnt glyph
A gift
From one who took pity
To whom I promised my best self

So vague an oath
Is naïveté of emotion my best self?
Would it be better never to feel this?

Even to erase it now 
I felt it.
It was me and I was it.
I dwelled in love and it in me
To feel nothing once more…
Is it worse? Could anything be
Worse than this annoying hunger
Whispering

Whispering close. Stay close
Stay close
And protect him.

Protect the treasure, wyrmlike, until
The world that borrowed it returns him.

I love him. It is not a question.

I know.

The words stuck in my throat
But they are true nonetheless.
It's all so new and bright and bold 
the bruise on his cheek 
burst with colour I would not have seen days ago.

To lose that light…
I fear
What will become of me.

Not me the me who stepped 
afresh 
into this realm
to peer into the gloom.

But me
The me who sees 
The colours 
That killed a prince
Who turned away
From their realm

The me who would betray
The way they did
If only to be sure 
He lived.