I let go and fall, fall, fall — ever so deep —
Into the cracks between your pieces
They’re the only way to your heart.
Let me swim through the crevices
Like a diver in the mines.

Ive struck gold.

@sheherazad.poetry

Your exhausted heart longs
for the pillow
of my beating one
As much as
your weary head
yearns to rest
there too

But do not cry,
my love
That we are apart
in this world.
What is separation
for a single soul?

We are two aspects
of a single breath
Think of
how deeply we are exhaling
Oh,
  what a relief it is
to have found you!
though you were in me all along

We are not apart
No, not really
For we cannot be parted
How does one sever an ocean
Or an eternal flame?
You are not my life
But we are life itself
Together

And look how much we are living it.

Life is a veil
And we are the riders
Carrying opposite corners
to vast expanses
Spreading it over the world
and coloring gardens beneath
in the deep scarlet
of our undying hearts

Do not cry, my love.

We are a compound
that cannot be split.
    We were always
    one element
    anyway.

@Sheherazad.poetry

It is terrifying that love dooms us to pain —
because if not done correctly,
love is a cancer on the heart
Its greedy cells fed by the anguishing cannibalism
of one’s own mind,
unable to separate itself from the seed it once held

And if it done correctly,
lovers will feel that two bodies cannot become close enough.
I cannot melt into you
in the way that I want to
When I’m lying with my head on your chest
begging to fall into your heart.

When you are not here, you are too far
But even when I am in your arms,
separated by nothing but our skin,
You are still too far

Thank the lord for these two sorrows
and the ability to choose between them
— @sheherazad.poetry

I offered my heart to the hands of the world
A mendicant to love’s holy shrine
But my world took a human form
the arms wrapped around him are mine

Time with you is never wasted
— like the hours buried in a good book,
or any story worth reading.
Love is lessons learned
and ours stream like a flowing brooke
That carries the minutes, unheeding

— @sheherazad.poetry