Can I be forgiven for my impulsive need to present my love to you as a viking would after a day hard at work
I’m physical about it and chaos theory is the dress I choose to wear to ****** you not those flimsy night-sky black things or a cliché of words tucked up behind your ear
I'm dressed up in an imaginary beard with a palm full of unpredictability that makes you buckle underneath forgotten desires and we destroy ourselves this way for hours only to wake up and repeat.
I absorb you alpha and you become invisible like a woman over 50 I'm a force to be frightened of and you are an empty shell.
Never love someone who isn’t stronger than your darkness. You will **** them every time and spend the rest of your days explaining the head on a stick at the end of your bed to your next lover it can become tiresome.
But you never asked questions. You accepted my grit my madness and lust for emotional bloodshed so i kept going.
You just waited patiently to see if the sword in my hand would fall away in the face of your delicate beauty unnatural for a man admittedly more suited for a goddess speaking ancient Greek from magic lips.
You could have spoken incoherent babble for all i cared as i marvelled at your fingers just trophies on hands not from this world.
Again, I’m physical about it and i saw myself arrange quickly your internal magnificence to match the outer shell, so perfect whether real or imagined I indulged my vanity that you were mine washed with your sunshine every time we moved into each other’s view.
Addiction to beauty it’s akin to a serial art buyer I’d bid my blood to have that prize next to me each night and that’s all you were to me it must have seemed.
Your love was more than mine i thought so i could afford to be careless I was a swashbuckling hero to myself because i never believed you knew how to be so just lie there and look the part and be there when I come home from severing heads of out-dated ideas about how to move through life.
Quietly though, you were writing secret sonnets to yourself about the possibility of our “maybe” love I rode right over that like a warlord blinded by personal victories making my way to a new precipice another conquest forgetting with eyes wide open how to encase another in perfect intimacy.
You just waited patiently to see if the sword in my hand would fall until one night, alone again you saw the space at the end of the bed where your own head would stand and you ran into the night dancing over misplaced dreams now scattered all around like forgotten tombstones as I returned home to my future of regret.
Now this weighty silence between us has me filling the empty space with love songs to myself just to hear us again.