You

You taught me how to understand that some people just don’t know how to love and it’s a luxury so essential, remaining on the most expensive lists of all time. Some know how to show it, but don’t know how it really feels. How it really feels to take it in and love to be loved, as if it’s the softest blanket you’ve ever wrapped yourself into. Again I will mention, that chocolate Skin and all my god what a beautiful site it was. There will only be one you and right now, Im learning we have to let go of the things we love the most to grow. Two people emerging from growing pains, in a garden of hope, trimmed off many pieces of sheer, promising pieces of a tense wild flower. Petals falling to their death. oh my sugar, honey, I’m sorry; I’m here, pleading for acknowledgment of life around you, whilst the counterparts of dark brown callouses scratch your tender heart. as one would scorn in wonder, look on in admiration, the tenderness those fallen petals long for, establishes a bond two seamstresses couldn’t see into a matching seam. the care extended to those of lost hope to nurture us back to health is a beautiful sight when the shake back is inaccurate and praised. impeccably unrecognizable, you don’t say. The saddest of the hearts comes about as the spade forbids the diamond from sharing its heart with the joker; being the only ray of sunshine to free the joker of his mischievous dwellings. To ones owed the benefit of the doubt, come naturally to overlook their worthiness-bestowing complete happiness upon you. Your grace has been stolen you. From the very ones we put on the highest pedestals, they continue to take. Under-looked because of misfortune, led by a masquerade of the mind: giving more power to those who hurt you indefinitely, making no sense of the good given to you. Seeing it as your fault, claiming to have seen it all, when in fact, you’ve had it all- in one place. We become so dreaded with pain, we admire the false casting of acclaimed love to ponder our shortcomings into a forest of shadows. Those who care only about the pleasures of physical bonds, create the boundaries and bondage that forces the hand of the lonesome heart to digress from the love they deserve. The outside looking in; A change of heart, so timid to love as no real

Love was ever torn away, except that of blood ties. The tongue could do no justice explaining the torture one feels from such maltreatment. Yet, the practices to embrace others in a coat of arms, delivered straight from the forces above and around are in order. Let me love you. Love you in ways others may fail to express without content and question. A love as if it matters as matter- the lesser, created, not destroyed. A heart given outside of the body, beating stronger as it decreases the distance between our bodies. To yours, I give mine; to hold you and keep you when times are rigid- my heart becomes yours. With scars left by forces we cannot control, we still have the ability to choose. Finding a way to wake up everyday, find the one we have the slightest clue to make our world spin, awaiting to be in their space: feel their pulse, dance to the pitch in their voice, caress their mind. One soul, two bodies dance in ways only a spirit can feel and spread their rejoice. It’s not my, fault. The pain sitting in your corner. The figure in your shadow, holding a wide glass of aged whiskey and a burning cigarette, awaiting for that one spark to land in the red room’s kerosene fuse. Ignited to say the least, a shadow who knows nothing of what that room possesses. A spirit that knows he will reign once the sparks fly- conversely- uninformed. Out of touch with that burning ember of hope. Those trickling sparks could ignite the fireworks of your heart. You lie back, filling the room with the intent to forgive myself and be myself as I as to feel love your love.