the cold light.

I.
she told me she wasn't a firefly,
but i didn't listen.
instead,
i held out my heart
like a jar
and tried to bottle her light.

she flew
in and out of my darkness,
sparking magic
with each glowing movement of her wings.

it was spring

and even on the cloudy days,
the raindrops could not touch her.
but still i chased her -
eyes adjusting to each flash of brilliance,
and drenched by my desire.

II.
dear god,

after all of the this time,
i am still nothing more
than cold dark matter -
a cluster of shadows
in search of an outline,
running after lightning bugs
and waiting for a spark
to show me the way
to love.