What would I do,
If you ever graced my arms?
Would I have a clue?
Would I raise your alarms?

Or would you behold my charms?
Would you leave me wholly disarmed?
Would we grow together like roses in an orchard,
Or would we be lucky to escape unharmed?

Speculative stanzas, all of the above;
Love is when it feels like the hand fit the glove.
Here’s what I would do to you;
I’d slowly and gently run my fingers through your hair,
Marveling at its sheen and shine, mastered through your care.
I’d overthink everything to the brink;
You’d have to hold me tight, as I let go of grief,
As I try to cry to find relief, struggling to not resort to drink.

I’d be a ******* mess, for most of the time;
I’d be unhinged and stressed like I’ve got all of the world’s anger bursting through my chest, for the rest of the time.
But, through the nightmares and the despair,
I’d skip and saunter through it all with a certain flair.

Plenty of demons in my head, that’s for sure.
We make for quite the squad, though;
About twenty of us getting drunk in the moor,
Ready to die free, obscene, and poor.

I’d lend my shoulder to you if you need to cry,
Whenever you feel like you just want to die.
I’d want to hold you like it’s our last night,
Like tomorrow morning’s first rays of light might not be there.


I’d absorb every glance or glare;
I’d wonder whether our future should have me giddy,
Or whether our future should have me scared.
I’d listen to you intently, like I was deciphering the code to your heart;
I’d sing my heart out to you and write down odes to your art,
I’d mark your soul like a bullseye, and strive to be the dart.

I’d make love to you, just like I should;
I’d worship those curves like nobody else could.
I’d want you to rest your head on my shoulder,
To stick your hands in my pockets when it gets colder.
I can’t promise that I’ll always know what to say;
Sometimes, all I will be able to do is try to brighten your day.

I can, however, promise you brutal honesty.
I’ve tasted dishonesty, and that’s a worse travesty.
Your parents might have issues with the lack of polite lies;
I’m sure that as soon as I mention I am an anarchist,
Your father will probably choke on his steak and fries.

I can promise you it’ll be a wild ride;
I can promise you that you won’t have to hide.
I want to see every shade of you,
Every mood and every bit of banter;
I want to share food, and drink to your success,
Or taste your disappointment and anger.

I guess what I would do, is love you until we’re ruined.
I’d love you like there was nothing else to it,
Until I’m empty of empathy and my heart breaks and I won’t have a clue as to how to glue it back together.
I’d love you like it meant nirvana was ‘round the corner, and that’s how to pursue it.

I will be the biggest paradox you’ll ever meet;
A master of whispering nothings that are bittersweet,
A master at being the flame that burns faster.
I will spread around your forests like a ******* disaster.

I hope you’re ready.