a year full of life

love is like...

love is like the list of things you think to bring
if ever on a deserted island;

you think you know what you'd need:

1) some means of getting food,
be it a weapon or some other set of tools
[in our case it'd be some way for me to reap
the affection you've given so heavily,
some way to let you know i feel your care]

2) some form of entertainment,
something to pass the time
[i wonder if just being with each other
will always be enough,
even with nothing to do,
holding hands feels like
more than just passing time]

3) and finally, some sort of companion,
so we don't get so lonely
[this one seems the simplest,
when it comes to love,
we'll never feel alone if we're side by side]

after making our checklist, reality starts to set in.

we realize when they say deserted Island they mean no way out and definitely no rose tinted glasses to fade the dark overcast looming up ahead.

just like on that island, we were too self assured [confident we could figure things out as we went- that the plans we did end up making would all go accordingly] and we burnt ourselves up.

we rushed into love not realizing my skin was on fire and yours couldn't take the heat;

so i slowly singed your porcelain skin and we silently stared out into the raging waters ahead
[burnt hues tainting your skin, dying embers painting mine]