A body self-possessed, self-embraced, Desperately trying to tear itself apart. I write like I am trying to **** something. Metaphors poisoned with memories. I have always carried my love for this world, carried all of my harsh words, carried my horrible reverence for this world. I write like I am trying to drown something, To muffle their apologies in love poems. I confront love just to consume it. Lazy in the way that only negligence covets.
And then, you.
The way all good poets encounter a muse: Terrified. Terrified of your hands, your touch and how much it feels like A place to hide. A place to rest. A place to put my grief down. For once, I felt myself become gentle. Your smile cutting glass and leaving scars on my heart, Don't worry about that damage. We will count our wounds when it's all over. We have survived this much, What would happen if we were to survive more? Survive love like it is a creator, Write for life instead of death, Be able to live without decaying. Sharing life with you makes life worth writing about.