Air Conditioning

Unable to name a Storm.

You were beautiful today,
A storm of growing intensity on stage,
Stronger than me in ways I could never compare too.

I'm proud of you, oh so very proud.

But my pride doesn't truly matter.

What you have now is not enough for you,
You want to devour me in every sense of the word that doesn't require bleeding.

You are beautiful, so beautiful,
A rose growing from within my heart,
Planting it's roots into my veins and drinking my blood.

When I yank at those roots I want to sob from the pain. When I brush my fingers or nose across the petals, I want to sob with happiness and relief.

You are a rose, a shattering thing,
Something to bring me to my knees and raise me to the mountain tops,
Something to rock my world and keep me steady,
A being of oxymoronic nature that I will never be able to fully delve into.

Something I will hold forever and never obtain.
Something that yearns and cuts and bruises,
Something that's truly lovely and truly heartbreaking.

You're right, I don't know what I want.

My emotions I can see clear as day,
They're crystal while you're opaque.

They're hard and sharp while you're soft and supple, beautiful in their own ways and entirely unique.

I don't know what I want, and it's hard to cope with.

I mean the things I say,
That you're beautiful,
That I love you,
That you hurt me,
That you're my desire.

That I may never have you.
That I'll miss you.
That I've accepted my fate to never know what could have been.

I mean the things I say,
And I know what I would want in another world. I've told you countless times.

What do you want to hear when you ask me what we are?

What else can I tell you but what I feel for you?

Why put a label on something so entirely unique?

There's no way to slap something as small as words onto what we have.

But yet you yearn for it,
You beg me to,

And I simply can't.