Lock and key

And so they laughed at your expense—

Giggled when you tripped,
chuckled as you fell,
and applauded while you wept.

Still—there is nothing softer than your heart
except for your soul sad with tears.

And I shall find you when you are lost,
love you when you are lonely,
and lift your heart up in spirit so you know—

You will always have the key—

To mine.

Love?

As much as I care for you, about you,
It doesn't go past my need for self-preservation.
I am compelled to leave you,
Not because I can live without you,
But because I can’t pay the price of isolation you are asking for.
Letting go,
Of others I care about,
Of all that I built for myself until I met you,
Of the things I believe in, and
Of all that has been a part of who I Am,
Until Now, until I met you,
Too much of a price to pay, I think.
And the niggling doubt in my Mind
When you said or unsaid that
You Love me
But Not Love the people,
The ideas
And the life I lead that made me, Me,
The same ME you claim you fell in love with
Feels like a lie, don’t you think?

　
Maybe you are right.
Maybe I don’t love you enough to put you before Me.
Maybe I am too selfish to make you a priority before me.
Maybe the you I now know doesn’t inspire me,
To change myself for you,
Without your manipulation or coercion.
Maybe I love myself too much to need you,
The way you need me to need you.
And if that is true,
You should do yourself a fantastic favour,
Leave me alone and find someone,
Who can think past themselves,
Give themselves to you the way you want them to.
Hopefully, you’d remember to do the same for them.
For that is your definition of Love,
Not Mine.

Without You

You’re not here.
We’re bound by heartstrings,
Rent by geography.
Separate, not whole.

Without you here,
I pad around,
I slump, I slouch,
I forget how to stand.

We spent so long apart,
I forgot your laugh,
I lost your scent, and
Your every cadence.

Now every lost hour
Takes me back to when I
Would trade my oxygen for
One mere breath of you.

I crave your arms, your hips,
Your patience and your smile.
Your tenderness, your care,
Your ordinary, extraordinary everythings.

The dent in your pillow,
The crease in your chair,
The faint stain in the mug,
You haven’t used in days,

They all remind me of what I need,
And can’t have,
Until you come back
To me.

And I know,
Forever,
The only home I ever need
Is you.

The Geography of her

I will adore her
Even from a distance.
For she is beautiful, wild, elegant and independent.
I will discover her, I will explore her. I will chart her.
From the fragrant hair on her lovely head to the tips of her painted toes. 
I will know every inch of her.
I will study her. 
I will learn her. 
I will examine her.
In photograph, on video, through audio.
From opportunistic selfies and meticulously planned photos shoots. 
From impromptu captured moments and wonderfully contrived scenes. 
I will review the contents of her wardrobe. 
Her clothes, her footwear, her lingerie. 
I will dress her up and dress her down. 
I will strip her naked in a hundred ways and position her in a thousand poses. 
She will wear make up or be natural. 
She will be a fantasy angel or an everyday girl. 
She will be the dragon queen or the stranger in the streets .
I will know her hair, her eyes, her lips, her nose, her mouth, her skin, her piercings, her ink. 
I will know her arms, her hands, her legs, her belly, her throat.  Her thighs, her back.
She will walk for me, move for me, stretch for me, sigh for me, purr for me. 
She will dance as innocent as a school girl, as bold as a stage act, and as seductively as only a woman who knows she is utterly adored can dance.
And she will be adored. Every smile, every frown, every tear. 
Every bubble of laughter. 
Every bone, every muscle, every sinew, every nerve, every fibre, every pore. 
Every breath.
Every word she speaks or writes.
I will utterly adore her beauty, her body, and her thoughts.
And then, if and when we meet, I will have a map, a plan, a billion pixels of familiar, sensual, heavenly destinations.
An intimate study of a perfect creature. A geography of her.
And I will finally know the pure wonder of finally laying my fingers, my lips, my tongue upon her glorious, gorgeous terrain.
Filling her with my prose
Paradise delivered.
The virtual becoming real
My map of her complete
With an equator around the meridian to her core