Your voice is like the North Star guiding me home. The lilt in your words, the way the r’s roll off your tongue, makes me want to be the language that you speak. The way you utter my name. I feel like it was made for you. For us. For me to listen to. For you to speak over and over again.
Let me lose myself in everything you say, everything you write and then grapple with the meaning of it all, have my own interpretations, kill myself over one word, one comma, line, full stop and then come up for air to dive again in the next prose of madness that you spin.
Make me the canvas of your thoughts, scribble on me, erase what you write with kisses. rewrite. Explore the topography of my body with your fingertips. Understand me in braille and turn the lights out. Whisper your thoughts into my ears and trace them out on my skin. Count my goosebumps and rub my arms to make them disappear and then run your fingers through my hair and watch the goosebumps return once again.
Turn my mundane day into an exhilarating story by listening to it enraptured. I will do the same. Let me tell you that everything you do is beautiful, everything you say has meaning and everything that you feel is honest.
Let me in your heart. Let me reach your soul. Believe me when I tell you that you are precious. That the barbed wires that keep everyone out, are only hurting you. Because they bite into the delicateness of your heart. They leave welts behind. Know that you are everything I say you are.
Don’t worry about the expiry date. just know that it will be way past our lifetime. If I believed in Moksha I would have promised you an afterlife with me too.
Let the flames go up and burn the world. Know that to you and me they just provide warmth. To help us stay together. To help us feel. To help us be.
Be with me. Besides me. Stay. Just stay.