Love can be a heavy thing
carried alone.
I wish you’d hold it with me.
or
that I could drop it at your feet—
that you’d consider it a gift
if I did.
Instead, I strain
with the weight
of your perfection.
Tag: love
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the tip of my finger
grazes that world.
I want to know it.
I want to know its warmth.
I want to know the way
the Sun feels in that land—
if it kisses the skin more gently.
I want to know
what cherry blossoms,
what milk, what honey
abound.
I want not this cold exile.
but, if I should not be welcome,
I would beg:
let me not know of it.
let me forget I’d ever seen it.
for this
can only be hell
if i know
heaven exists.
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the scariest thing
isn’t that I want you—
it’s how.
what scares me
isn’t something that burns—
but something
that drowns.
what scares me
is where Eden lies:
less
in fits of passion.
more
in moments
of tenderness.
this,
this is what scares me.
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and when the world
is too loud,
& its hands are clasped
over its ears,
I find myself here—
again, and again.
you,
my closest confidante,
my truest friend:
who listens like you?
what judgement
have you,
what scorn?
here,
in this quiet grove,
there is only
profession.
there is only
pouring.
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I know the secret
to a life unburdened
by doubt,
hurt,
pain, regret.
there is an intruder
who swears
he comes bearing gifts—
but he hides the price.
do not let him in.
do not be fooled.
what starts as warmth
in a cold world
will consume you,
mar you,
burn you—
so much more cruel
than if you never felt
at all.
take this secret.
move in confidence,
safe, undisturbed:
if there is no love,
there’s nothing cruel
in this world.
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I see it clearly now.
I see, now
that I am not Adam
straining for the touch
of the divine.
I see, now
that you too
are born of clay—
clay that will age,
weather,
& crack in the Sun.
I see, now
that love is water.
I see, now
that though
we will perish,
first
we will flourish,
for we
are made of Earth,
and to the Earth
we shall return—
but briefly beautiful
we will be.