I love you.
That's all.
I can dress it up in the most elaborate metaphors, but why try to hide it, why try to be pretentious about something so precious?
Everything always comes down to that same idea, that of simple, pure love, of which I have so much to give.
Some days it makes me feel like a floating feather, weightless, fearless.
Other days, I feel I am crushed under the heaviness of this love that I must carry everywhere with no place to put it down, drowning in the depths of this love, my arms are as weak as my knees.
I hold this love like a woman in Africa carrying for miles a water jug on her head,
Or a vagrant mother with a baby and no bed,
Or Atlas, holding up the world, frozen in his position while the world continues to spin.
Yes, I wait with this weight, and I will keep waiting, weary, wasting away as my love grows stronger by the day, and that's okay, because I love you, and the wait, the weight, will all be worth it in the end, when everything finally begins...
I love you more than I ever thought I could,
More than is right for my own good,
And I don't want that to ever change.
I can't wait to throw all this love to you like the thickest blanket that I've threaded by hand for what feels like forever.
I can't wait to use that hand to hold yours,
To write my name next to yours in some beautiful place that will belong to us alone if only for a singular moment in time.
I can't wait to write our story, instead of all these clumsy poems.
I can't wait for the day I stop waiting, but I'll keep waiting until then...
All because I love you.
Will you kiss my inner wrist, the bruised knuckles on my fist?
If our love is a sin, a crime to be punished, in a thousand lifetimes I would take that risk.
In a thousand lifetimes, I'd choose love over law,
So powerful, so raw,
Pure and simple.
