Last night,
I held the ocean's hand,

It was soft and giving,
Nothing like the mysterious depths you described,
That body of water was created inside your mind,
You built her up so high, she couldn't help but fall,
Couldn't help but violently crash onto the rocks below

Now she's bruised and cut, with precious pieces missing,
But I'll be the sun that rises and sets for her every night and day,
and I am not afraid of what lies beneath,
Because she's seen my face, even the masks I try to hide,

I smile and kiss her cheeks,
She is 70% water and I will drink her before drowning in the warmest depths of her skin,

Perhaps the moral of this story is that your ocean,
was never meant to be crossed,
It dwells like a black sea, with secrets and the broken hearts of others,
When the night is betrothed to the shadows,
He does not betray her and seek out other light,

But you did,

And now the ocean is gone,
Her gentle waves have reached a safer shore,
and I will keep her here with gentle truth and love

The ocean isn't just beautiful at night, but she is full of rage and fury,

And at last,

She is mine.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

I write with shaking hands,
I'm about to hold yours,
And I can only imagine,
It will feel like holding the universe.

Take me where words can't,
Meet me there with your hand held out,
You should know,
When I take it,
I'll never let go,
I'm not who came before,
I won't wear a mask,
I'll show you everything that dwells inside my soul,
And I ache to read the pages of yours,
Take me there, where words can't,
Let's turn these lines into reality.