I don't care if you are the water or the groove of the stone. I want a place In your arms that feels succinctly like home. I want to be encircled like an old oak tree, with a breeze in the air that smells radiantly of you and me. I don't care if you are the tongue or the groove. I want a place within which all these walls I can remove. There is a river that cascades between us that keeps us far from home, but I don't care if you are the cancer or the broken bone. I don't care if you are the sweetest peach or the rattle of the snakes tail. All I want is for you to arise each time you fail.

I don't care of you bruise easily or become yellow from the inside out. I don't care if you walk away silently or you scream, stamp your feet and shout. I don't care if you are the water and I am the stone. I do not care if for your secrets I have to atone. I want to you to seek the hiding places I hold so tightly,  and I want you to seek them daily and nightly. I don't care if you think this is overdressed, or I show too much flesh. I want you to see how I look for you when I calmly undress. I don't care if you are the thunder in my storm. I don't care if you call this safety or if you call me home.

I don't care if you are the salt or the falling tear. I want you to know that me not caring is not what I fear. I want you to know that true love is true acceptance In it's ultimate form. I don't care to know if you're broken or you are torn. These words I asked you, but they are routine and true. I could repeat , dry my face and carry on, but I don't care to do that for you. I don't care if you are weak and strong together. I care about you whatever the whatever. I don't care if you wish to compete and you have won. I want you to know that those secrets were already awake and done.  

I don't care how many times you walk away, I care about the how many times you stay.

I don't care, because In the end nothing matters, and in here, we're all mad as hatters.