i've been thinking about glasses filled with water,
two in particular.
when you take one and fill the other with more,
the initial one is left with less water.
there's still water in the two
but in my eyes,
nobody wants two uneven glasses.
it's science, volumes, and other simple concepts.
for me, not so much.
sometimes, i wonder if that's what my mind
and what my feelings do to cope.
if one part of my life is too hard to bare,
i invest my energy into another area
without paying much attention to
what's been taken out of unbearable assessment,
and what's been given
in a twisted type of self-treatment.
because the reality of a lesser glass
is hard for me to take/think about/dive into.

I want to learn your secrets;
hear the things you've never told;
reach inside and **** your mind,
burn the things that make you cold.

I wish to know your dreams,
those that keep you awake;
peak inside and try to find
a way to give your worrisome mind a break.

I need to know your sins,
the ones you're ashamed to speak;
hold your hand, comfort them away,
reassure you that they don't make you weak.

I hope to know what haunts you
in the silence of your days,
do you think of me, do you think of her?
What words do you wish you could unsay?

I yearn to know your desires,
fetishes that make you tick;
grasp your heart, feel your skin,
discover the way our bodies click.

I crave to love your soul
in all the ways a person could;
hold your fears, kiss your tears,
adore you the way a lover should.

I've learned that Time is only the indication of one thing: Time.
It determines the seconds, minutes, hours as they pass
But it can't determine the rate at which a person falls.

First sight;

first smell;

first touch
,
Important factors in the drop.

First laugh;

first kiss;

first hug,

Time doesn't get to determine how quickly he learns to make your heart stop.

I've always had these rules because Time told me they were right.

"Can't eat until that time."

"Can't shower until this time."

Can't give my heart away to a man after 28 days
Because Time claims, 'Too soon.'

But Time doesn't see the details.
It can't stop it's ticker, pause,
and see the way his hands make your body quiver.
No,
time doesn't get to take a break
to feel the way his eyes gaze at you
as if he has never seen anything more beautiful.
And time can't feel the breath your lungs take
at the simple sight of him.

I've always had these rules because Time told me they were necessary.
And when he told me of the love he felt after 21 days,
I looked to time who yelled,
"Too soon, too soon, too soon, he can't possibly feel that now."
But then I look at him
and I can see the way he looks at me.
I get to feel the gentleness of his touch
and the intensity of his kiss.
Time can only pass.
And I've realized that time will pass,
whether you let yourself fall too soon
or if you allow the passing minutes
to inform you of when it's okay to start loving someone.
Time can only indicate the time.
Time counts the seconds.
But time does not get to tell me when it's okay to feel anymore.