what i love about loving you, with love

30 2 5
                                        

i write this with an inexperienced hand,
one not yet rough with the calluses of
another whose seen nirvana with their
own eyes, one not scarred with the
hurts of a dozen lost others, seared with
the burning flames of life's never-ending
pains; but one, smooth as silk, a fresh
cloth to be marked and used, before i peak
into my unique beauty.

i write with pure ignorance, words of advice
forced into these ears, meaning well, of things
ive never understood, of foreign lands and the
sad tales of sailors who were lost to the sirens
prowling the dark waters, looking for fish, but
only to be devoured in a pathetic leap of faith.
dangling my legs above infested waters, i wonder
if i will join the dead, in a cry for love, only to
chant affections into the sea foam below, never
to arise again.

i write, with eyes who have yet to see the world,
living in the same red well my whole life, the same
patchwork of the night sky; i have it all memorised.
i have seen the same purpled hue of the night
for 17 years of my sheltered life, fallen in and out
of love with the same constellations through that
tiny window, counted the same stars over a painful
eternity, dazed orbs dancing around my small room
in a died down symphony, one coming to its final
chord of resignation, a minor key, for my aching soul.

but let me give you this inexperience.

my hands may not be rough and known, but i can grant
you the softness of spring, innocent love blooms into
your palms, youth like no other, for you, if only youd
let me.

my mind, immature and naive, but there are
no locks in this heart of mine. a cave, dotted with
hidden gems just for you, if only you trust me with
the harness, and let me explore yours too.

my eyes, used to the same glow of twilight, relishes in
upturned crescent moons, crinkling with stardust
as all i see is beauty, and in it, a music score with
no end, no V7 to resolve, a sonata which goes on
and on, growing with the new moon in us, flourishing,
into something worth living for.

may my hands become battered and torn with my
own blood, my mind shattered by the tragedies of
life, my eyes blinded by staring right into the sun,
reaching for something i shouldnt have; but for now,

let me give my all to you, and let me relish in your
best.

(shits raw as sashimi written on a plane ride home as my mom scrutinises me as i was typing this shit out)

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