Our problems may tower
Above us, peaks the size
Of hopelessness casting
Shadows as dark as
Our deepest despairs,

But the view from the
Bottom of this valley we're
In lies about the hight of
The actual mountain.
And ****, that sky is blue.

"Go on"
Shaking hands.
Unsteady heart.
Heavy breath.

You look at me as if you haven't eaten in years, and I am
The favorite dish you've savoured on the
tip of your Tongue.

I've had lovers before.
I've lost my breath with another man's name in my fading gasp.

But this is a different chapter.
No.
A different genre, written by gentle hands with an unsteady composure.

Birthmarks and fur
Fingernails and pearls of sweat dancing on the tip of your nose.
At last, I know what it feels like to be devoured.
Finally
I am
Naked.

Haunted for decades by
Ghosts in the shape of
My own broken parts.

At my most vulnerable, I
Am torn and spilling.
Some girls have knives

For fingernails; broadsword
Words swung by own
Insecurities-

To chop down a man
Renders many young women  
Giants in the eyes of their egos.  

Enter exorsist. Enter patient,
Slender hands around
Work worn, worried ones.

*Take your time, you man
Of open, ancient wounds.
Rain your lust upon me,

Unveil fantasies and wants.  
I'll be sand; white beaches;
Welcoming your every wave.

With shaking hands you touch me.
"It's been a while"  you say.
With every insecure movement
I can feel the inner demons on
your shoulders.
For every tremble, every ******,  any short breath.  
I witness my demons
Raising a sledgehammer
Breaking down
Your walls.

Your fingertips read my scars as if they were written in
Braille.

Read me.
Devour me whole.
Allow me to forever be your favourite
Literature.

You are so proud
Of your defenses.

The strong fundament of constructions built to keep everyone out.

And you in.

Little girl, your deepest fears have
Nothing on me.
Speak to me of your angst;
It's a miniscule bug to my foot.

Our pathetic misunderstandings
Are egos fighting the memories of
Each other in themselves.
Love is ***** and diamonds.

I love you prematurely when I
Sense spring on your
Skin. It turns me on beyond myself.
So let's just argue,

If that makes you feel as alive as you
Should beneath the hands of my
Unshared attention.
Little girl, your fears have nothing

On me.
I eat insecurity like sushi, wasabi
Memories of idiots telling you
You were never meant to write or

Be written of.
Grab yesterdays with the sticks of
Now-man's hands  
And toss them over your shoulder

Like salt after some you spilled.
Your deepest fear is as shallow
As a puddle.
I've shouldered ten times your

Weight, without love.
Watch me now.
You need not set a foot.
I carry you like the sky its stars.