I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

I'd give you,
The last of whatever's left.
Just to settle,
Your worried heart to rest.

You'd give a call
After I begged for one.
Tumbling eyes and dripping halls,
It's too cruel to cry in the sun.

I'd search this Earth,
To find.
Something, anything to heal,
Your hurt mind.

You'd return my hug
Only after the last lovers grave was dug.

I'd leave that,
Which I wanted most.
Because in the end

That's what love is I suppose.

In a different light,
i'm sure i could see you
in this strangers' face.

With another drink,
i'm sure you'd taste
the same as this stranger tongue.

With another day..or two..
i'm sure your laugh (your laugh)
will fade into this strangers' throat.

BUT IT WON'T.
with another, another with.
      cause we're both.
without each other.

Oh god, this is typical me.
To fall in love in the time it takes a red light to turn green. I’m stuck trying to preoccupy my hyperactive mind by betting on which raindrop on the car window wins the race. Then I remember that time we got stuck out in the rain, and the way the water clung to your eyelashes. How your shirt stuck to your chest and refused to let go. It’s ridiculous to be jealous of an inanimate object, but love isn’t always objective.

This isn’t love, it never is with me, this is madness in its purest form. Mutually assured destruction in every way, but even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to escape. I’m falling in love with the simple things. The crooked ***** of your nose, the flecks of gold in your whiskey brown eyes. The scar on your forearm, that tells a story I will one day ask for.
It’s just like me, I suppose. I can never leave anything alone.
— We’d Make The Perfect Metaphor | Kayle Marie