the kind that frees you

wilderness
a woman's brown eyes, a woman
an illegal thought, a want
as deep as rust can go.

how far can it go, just a thought
looking to give birth
to the rest of my life, my real life
the one imagined, looking at women
when they were not looking at me.
that much wild
looking back would burn,
i would go blind.

for that certainty, I would dream
of being destroyed, ripped open
by an anonymous her.

a mushroom, my miserable mistakenness.
i could have become the kind
that ruptures quietly, a well-mannered ruin.

Wilderness, inevitable
you only choose which
the kind that frees you,
or the kind that does not.

i chose my love's brown eyes,
a love that coats me, has helped me
come out of a cold dream
that would eat me alive,
shame's deep corrosion.