fertile soil on venus
i dream of eyes that will unlace the hooks i sunk into my spine–
those eyes that will undress me slowly,
while i invite your gentle hands along my hardened skin and
soothe the bitterness lodged in my veins.
a bitterness that has long since exposed
the cracks in my fragile longing,
i am always full of sorrow.
and amidst this chaos,
you’re familiar
but i’ve left myself here for far too long,
like Hope in Pandora’s box~
waiting to be unwrapped,
unwrap me.
unwrap me and
i'll pull apart silk and thread a quilt to
keep you warm on the nights that are hardest to love me.
because i’m delicate in a way that i don’t like– in a way that i'll drown underneath the weight of Expectation’s waves.
brutal and unforgiving.
i guess what i mean is that
i’m scared of being loved
because all i know is to love
a selfishly selfless martyr
hung on a crucifix
tortured by Conditional Love —
refusing to let him go,
consumed by his presence.
yet despite it all– i have a home beneath this shell that waits for you to occupy it.
and here you are, still.
still holding me– my rough exterior cast aside
as water slowly escapes my lungs, as Conditional Love burns against his crucifix
as Hope breaks free from her box and laughs.
i’ve learned to trust myself in
this exercise of loving you.
trusting that i am meant to fall,
trusting that i am meant to be,
trusting that i exist in your world, whole.
and i trust you.
i trust that you will continue to love me in
all the ways i am unable to imagine.
i trust you to trust me to love you in all the ways you need me to–
for the version of you now and the versions of you to come.
at least i can say that i am unafraid of this disintegrating world, because when i inhale– the air is sweet at the back of my nose and when i touch your skin, my hands stain a perfect shade of gold.
and just like that, our fantasy, so pure and sugary comes to life in the silence–
and i realise then, that to be loved by you is to be taken apart every night and put back together every morning.
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