Natasha Schön

June, 15, 1994 - Harare

I Think

I think you’re something special.
It’s a feeling that I have. It’s one I can’t explain.
Starting from the heart and flowing to tips of my fingers.

I think I’ll never find someone like you.
Like the morning star in the sky, you steal away the light
from other stars that wink away the night.

I think you’re a curse.
Like a cage, trapping my spirit. Begging to be set free.
I struggle because I’m afraid of the enclosing walls.

I think I need a way out.
But before I find one, the cage looks comforting.
Like a blanket of security, proving you’ll never leave.

I think I don’t have a choice.
I feel pain and joy. Frustration and excitement.
Perhaps, a curse can be twisted into a dream.

If you try.

I think I’m in love with you.
You’re my cage, my light in the sky, my security.
It is a curse, of course.

But at least I can be cursed with you.
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