I'm not in love
with your words
I'm in love with
the way you think
not just
delighted,
entertained,
endlessly curious,
sufficiently bewildered
and longing to climb inside
the gears tick-tocking your mind
but that your brain takes me
into a state of utter awe
blissing me still
it's looking into
this distorted hologram
mirror where I'm seeing
more of me, but from
different perspectives
than the usual 2D
similar to me, yet,
inversely intriguing
it's live and undulate
reflective truth serum
rooting me in now
that's why I slid
right down your throat -
I speak your language
and apparently intuitively
know how to crack you
allkindsa open
(even if it takes a
white-hot light year
and unprecedented doses)
it's like with you
I'm the me-est me
I can be
it's so
magically delicious
I don't try to escape
inside me anywhere
you make me want to
be more here
with you
on the outside
share all the parts
I learned it best to hide
on the in
though I know
it's a wee bit ******
if these treatises become
merely the sheer prologue
to The Most Unbelievable Tale
of Mystical Love Perhaps Ever Spun
the fact that
seeing you is
seeing me
means
loving you is
loving me too
this could be
- so -
healthy
like shots of
marine phytoplankton
chased with green smoothie
and my ponderings
keep meandering
around this one thing:
what happens when
it gets to the point where
your pictures painted of me
completely override
my false stories
- forevermore -
when I eat
so much of the mirror
I become - fully -
the me I see
through your
Windexed eyes
I daresay
that’s levitating off
the porch of full potential
outside our diamond-cut pyramid
with the gold-engraved signage
hanging in front of our
intergalactic portal
where one
might have
once
looked for a door
that now seems
completely archaic
and unnecessary
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 8:48 PM UTC
I'm not in love
with your words
I'm in love with
the way you think
not just
delighted,
entertained,
endlessly curious,
sufficiently bewildered
and longing to climb inside
the gears tick-tocking your mind
but that your brain takes me
into a state of utter awe
blissing me still
it's looking into
this distorted hologram
mirror where I'm seeing
more of me, but from
different perspectives
than the usual 2D
similar to me, yet,
inversely intriguing
it's live and undulate
reflective truth serum
rooting me in now
that's why I slid
right down your throat -
I speak your language
and apparently intuitively
know how to crack you
allkindsa open
(even if it takes a
white-hot light year
and unprecedented doses)
it's like with you
I'm the me-est me
I can be
it's so
magically delicious
I don't try to escape
inside me anywhere
you make me want to
be more here
with you
on the outside
share all the parts
I learned it best to hide
on the in
though I know
it's a wee bit ******
if these treatises become
merely the sheer prologue
to The Most Unbelievable Tale
of Mystical Love Perhaps Ever Spun
the fact that
seeing you is
seeing me
means
loving you is
loving me too
this could be
- so -
healthy
like shots of
marine phytoplankton
chased with green smoothie
and my ponderings
keep meandering
around this one thing:
what happens when
it gets to the point where
your pictures painted of me
completely override
my false stories
- forevermore -
when I eat
so much of the mirror
I become - fully -
the me I see
through your
Windexed eyes
I daresay
that’s levitating off
the porch of full potential
outside our diamond-cut pyramid
with the gold-engraved signage
hanging in front of our
intergalactic portal
where one
might have
once
looked for a door
that now seems
completely archaic
and unnecessary
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