I like being wrapped in your arms. I feel protected. It is as if I am covered by a soft blanket, but it is bulletproof. I notice your pupils dilate when you look at me, expanding like black holes to vacuum me into your universe. You take me in and teach me to be one with you, not you. Your mind is immaculate. I would never know this if I had not ventured into it, and I wish you were credited for your perfection. You are so beautifully meek, yet so quick to run to my defense. You did not ask for me to give in return, you did not push me into or away from you. You are the love of my life. The moment you walk into the room, my heart quickens. I am paralyzed by your beauty and stature. As of now, I live to become yours.
My mind is a garden, and you make my flowers bloom as if it were an eternal spring. It never rains in my garden; you have a watering can to nourish my thoughts until they are fruitful and delightful. All I knew before was a garden flooded with tears. My flowers would tremble in the cold, slump, and die between my fingers. You are my sunshine, and your soft beams of light have cleared my mind of agony. I told you I was in pain, but now that you have softly warmed my body and mind up to the feeling of euphoria, I can no longer say I am hurting. It has not rained for days, but you have a watering can and my orchards are infinitely flowering.
I am afraid to paint because I do not want to ruin a pure, clean canvas. What if I do not like the results? What if I fail to create a beautiful piece of art? I cannot return to that blank canvas once I begin to paint. It is impossible to erase paint.
You Don’t Want Me
You don’t love me, you love to hurt me. Are we fluid, plastic creatures, or are we bound to the 23 intertwined pieces of ourselves given to us at birth? Does the capacity for change outweigh our childhood wounds? You tell me, after all that is all you felt you could use over me when your logic was at an all time low and my passivity was at an all time high. I gave you the answers to the questions of mine, I tore myself open and sorted out the soft parts to let you feel intimacy. Me swimming deeper, you holding my head down. I pushed through the surface only once for you to see my face, but the mask was so repetitively rinsed off that you could no longer see the non-existent woman you lusted after in the opening act.