“Our Love, the Dragon,” or Vlog #5

 

Our Love, The Dragon

 

Like in the picture book,

our love was a red-and-yellow dragon,

small at first, cute, fragile, an infant.

 

We were enamored, curious, cautious.

It may be practically a puppy, but

it is still a dragon, after all,

 

capable of catastrophic, unrepairable

damage if improbably managed.

We must tread carefully.

 

Don’t tread on me, please,

or the dragon, or yourself.

Then, out of the blue,

 

into the blue, our love

blossomed, grew far too

fast, pregnant with anticipation,

 

far too expansive to be

comfortable any longer.

“Feed me, Seymour,” it cried,

 

and so it was fed,

even when it should not have been.

Even when it transformed into

 

Violet the blueberry-girl,

swelling awkwardly larger,

writhing to fill up each room

 

in our house. Our home.

After all, I was your home,

your Nadera, and you were

 

my light. But our love

began to fill all the spaces

in our home, blocking out the light

 

altogether. We could no

longer even see one another.

Our love was too mammoth.

 

And then, as was prone

to happen, our love, now

a balloon, had two options:

 

either the roof would

require removal, so the

balloon could float into

 

eternity, or else

one of us had to

and, truly, we had

 

to, as we were now

suffocating – find a

needle to prick

 

the balloon, force

it to instantly deflate

into nothing,

 

and for the first time in

a long time, leave us

with nothing

 

more than two people

staring at one another,

no longer in love,

 

yet burdened

with the weight of

new experience.

 

All at once, there

was ample air to

breathe, but our

 

lungs had to relearn

how to breathe

on their own.

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About Andrea Nicole

NZ enthusiast in the PNW. Internationally published writer, educator, grammar nerd, genealogist, and all-around storyteller. Recovering homebody. @Whitworth and @WGU alumna. #edchat
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2 Responses to “Our Love, the Dragon,” or Vlog #5

  1. csmith360 says:

    WOW! As always you’re a wonderful writer/poet and I can feel the over-excelerated growth, understand why what happened had to, and feel your pain.

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