Bomb in Gilead

I knew that I was Ammonium Nitrate, after I read the look in his eyes…. The quiet storm that could only be quelled with my lips…
My words were supposed to be a lullaby to ears reborn, but instead they ooze from my
Heart like lava… Disturbing this infinite calamity
how could I have prepared myself for the bomb in Gilead?
Wasn’t I supposed to be the Balm in Gilead?
If Only I could be Midas…
Except everything I touch, underneath my palm lay in ruin, never
turns to gold, and my heart is turned to clay, cold, and ready to shatter…
I didn’t see this volatile gust of wind coming, there was no warning to indicate this impending explosion.
Under my feet, I feel granite run and form cracks and part like the red Sea; I see a shift in the sidewalk that was this relationship…
What temperature, could have brought about change in this Fahrenheit…
How could I not have felt the warm air as the plates shifted…? I should have... my body is burning now.
I ignored it all.  I saw the clouds gather, I heard the call of Aphrodite, beckoning me to answer her voice.
I denied her orders, ran away, caused the earth to spin in a new direction, causing her acrimony…
Bleeding my own veins because of this disobedience
I thought I knew the face of everything that I could have ever wanted…
But I realized as this explosive grinds the will of time, that I never knew anything…
I was only the pod in destiny’s plan…
She will have her way, and I to her am a part of an ineluctable game…
That must play out…
This part of my flesh melts, wilts at the feel of heat…
Though I know that this is only in my mind, for even Amelia knows that this raging volcano will be like a bomb, killing us both simultaneous, and instantaneously…
We won’t even have time to speak…
Feelings have become constants, evolving at the speed of light, popping like lead, piercing like a shrill sound from a bitter whistle…
This silence broods among us, incapable of being broken, only neglected and interchanged with the loudness of additional silence…
It deafens me, and I go blind from seeing what is does to us both…
Thoughts erupt within these walls like horrid bits of combustibles, exposing the bare skin of the lady I call naked truth…
Who will speak for her, before the silence obliterates our feeble attempts at speech?
Is it even salvageable?
With our hands, what we have created is it being destroyed, before it was even built?
Can we really blame ourselves, for what time, destiny, and fate, said would have happened anyway?
Maybe it was the discourse of pleasure misplaced, lost in a world of anticipation, let down by total consumption…
Ravished by the one, suffering from the two…
Who will speak after Aphrodite finishes throwing the tantrum that was sure to follow her rage.
But how can one be angry at another for being the product of destiny’s will.
There is no escape from the death of failure…
I was supposed to be the healer, the one to croon away sorrows misery, that would end the desolate solemn that was a heart…
I instead was the explosive, blowing and completely extirpating the blood that is used to keep it beating…
But wasn’t I supposed to be the Balm in Gilead?