The wind was cold and the air crisp in our lungs
but the streets were clear of ice and the yards barren of snow. Our Alaskan winter just wasn't
Alaskan.
But down came the snow and your giggles of joy erupted from your gorgeous belly as you skated over the ice in your CivNasty,
giggling the whole way. Your joy is nothing but contagious as your smile consumes your face.
My PTSD vanishing as I hold your hand drifting around corners. We're everything but safe,
completely immersed in a fairy tale that is our love story
making donuts in parking lots
and love beneath sheets.
Risky business. Make love to me in this winter wonderland beneath the blankets of white snow and grey clouds engulfing us in the love that is the warmth of our limbs intertwined together.
Whisper secrets to my goosebumps,
My lover.

I'll tell you I love you but never how much.
I'll cry in front of you but behind my hands where you can't follow the stream with your eyes.
My tears are like rivers.
I'll hold you til I fall asleep and wish we never woke up,
jump on the back of a bird and fly away to space, never easily brought back.
I promise I will rarely ever make sense
and I'll do everything in my power to avoid doing the dishes after I cook.
I'll try on the skin of a woman with confidence but shed it before I climb back under the covers.
I'm naked.
This make-up is an opportunity to convince myself I'm beautiful,
that my smile is something strangers don't hate to look at
and that maybe I can make your heart beat a little quicker.
I wish I knew better,
better than to believe what I know is truth.
I've always wanted a telescope so that I could look with one I shut at the universe high above and below me.
That maybe I could put into perspective why I feel so small and insignificant.
Remember that time you asked me if I was happy and I looked at you like you just asked me what I was wearing two weeks ago?
I am not sure what that means anymore,
even the dictionary blurs when I try to read it.

If you want to write me a love song, make it sincere
and when you read it to me, sing it like you mean it because I'm ripping open my rib cage and letting my heart fall out on the floor beneath your feet.
I'm not sure what you intend to do with the sweetness in your voice
but remember I don't prefer light words
or heavy ones, for that matter, that weigh down your being
like rocks sewn into your ankles.
There's no use pouring water into a cup that's already full,
are you still listening?
Do the butterflies in my tummy tell me lies
or do you really love me enough to stick around through my times of intense thunderstorms?
Through the constant down pour of insecurities and made up truths?
I can't breathe sometimes
so I take your lips to mine and breathe in the breath in your lungs
hoping to survive solely on the dreams that nestle in the comfort of your mind.
I'm burning like a candle
smoking til my wick burns down
buried deep beneath the lost promises you've made.

If there's one thing you could do for me
and I'd never ask for anything more,
I'd beg of you to wish for me.
Wish for days that start with sun and end with the milky sky hanging light over my unburdened head.
Wish for hot coffee in my cup,
clean dishes in my cupboard,
a self ran washing machine
and a reason to wake up and smile
because I forgot how to laugh for a second there and when I reached for your hand,
you weren't there.
I'm all over the place and I wish I had a map
other than the one I drew connecting the points of your skin I've managed to kiss.
I love your lips.

I think it's hard being with me, like standing amidst a tornado, the destructive kind,
that rips apart houses built on memories and
hope.
The kind that brings down freezing rains and
doubt.
I think it's hard being with me, with my need to hold you so close and
never let you go,
for fear that without you near, I may collapse and bleed out from my chest because
without you,
my ribs will not hold my heart firmly in place.
I'm difficult to be with.
I sing. But I sing too loud and I cry, but my tears are too much and I laugh
but it echos about and leaves behind a need for closure.
I'm difficult to be with, but you love me anyway, and some days,
I'm not so sure why. You say it's the way I smile,
that it's like the sun rising on the dark valley that is your mind,
causing bloom to the dormant flowers that are your thoughts.
You say it's the way I laugh, that it's like
feeling the breeze on your face first thing in the morning after a long and weary rest.
You say I'm not so hard to love, that love
is the freckle in my eye and way our bodies fit perfectly together, that
not only is it not hard to love me, but it's
the best decision you've ever made
and that a day without me
is the end of living as you know it. Completely aware
that life will go on because it must
but that the air within your lungs will become dust
inhaled and exhaled
from your lips that will freeze over without a purpose,
no love to mutter.
God gave you me, you think, as the one to keep the spark alive that keeps your heart beating,
just for me, you say.
You say so much, but every bit of it I beg for off your tender lips
that I love so dearly to kiss.

I think I'm hard to love,
you think I'm crazy.

Maybe I'm crazy.