There is something about the way living things love.

How a tree can be cut down a thousand times
Yet as long as the roots remain,
It will find a way to reach for the sun.

I wonder if that is what I am to you,
A tree you will cut down a thousand times.
But my roots go far too deep to ever die out.

I wish you weren't so radiant.
I wish my branches would stop growing,
Would stop desperately reaching for you.

There is something about the way living things love.
I'm still deciding whether I like it or not.

If a thousand sing of your beauty,
Know that I am the loudest voice.
If a hundred praise your strength,
I will be counted amongst them.
If only ten speak of your heart
Then I pray that I am at least the tenth.
And if only one knows your soul
Then call me One even after I am gone.
And if no one can say they love you
Then I have long since turned to dust.

You may try to **** me if you wish.
But as long as you breathe,
My love will remain and then,
I will never truly die.

To call it lust would be too carnal.
It is too meaningless of a word.
Would you tarnish your very home,
The way we tarnish ourselves with desire?

To call it obsession is too base.
As though obsession could drive me
To meet each hair upon your head,
And never tire till I know them all by name.

To call it love would not be enough.
The word cannot bear the weight
of the living thing in me,
That only beats because of you.

If my tongue knew how to shape itself
Around the feeling that consumes me,
Then I would speak words that no man
Has ever heard before or ever will again.

maybe in another life,
maybe with another name.

maybe in a different world
with different rules.

maybe with a kinder past
a safer present,  
and a brighter future.

maybe in a corner of my heart,
tucked so far down in my soul
that I'll be able to pretend
to forget that it is there.

maybe then I can love you,
as I wish to.