Gun ùine

There’s something so old fashioned about you. Passionate about words and the old ways. The sweetness, the real, the raw. An old soul who wears suspenders. Barefoot on a porch rocking chair. You can’t possibly be from here. From now. You are exquisitely timeless.

I’m melting into your smile lines. A slow burn of my icy, cautious heart. The fire smoldering in your words. Then fear because it’s too good to be true. A quick freeze for protection. My lonely impenetrable heart.

I identify as an ocean. Not quite from this plane of existence. Salty. Controlled by the moon. Picturesque. Most people love those perfect beach days. Calm lapping of waves, sunshine, serene. The beauty is all they see. Men who think they’re in control. But nothing will humble you like the ocean.

To love her beauty, you must love all of her. Depths humans cannot understand, their heads will implode. A fierceness and fury that can move earth, change the world around us.

You calm the ocean in me. Soften me. I melt. Become gentle. The bright side of feminine. You could survive my storm, but instead you make me feel safe enough to be tempered. To be the vulnerable one. The salt in your veins respects her. Understands her. Understands me.

I want a timeless kind of love. And for that, I need a timeless man.