sat by the ocean

lay with me, my dear

lay with me, my dear
you are my inspiration in everything
I greedily lap up the words that come to my mind
every time you enter my thoughts

you forever live in my head, rent-free
and I have no intent on asking you to go, or to pay, ever
because I love you and I don't know if you see it fully

I don't understand love yet
it is complicated, and I am only starting to uncover myself
from the drapes placed upon my unsightly statue,
deemed so by the world in which I was carved

but I am not made for them.

I am made for me.

but I wouldn't complain if I was made for you.

I don't completely understand or grasp the concept of truest love yet,
and I don't mean the fairytale true love,
where eyes meet and perfection is imminent.

I mean actual love,
the raw kind that keeps your aching bones from giving up even when they give in
the real kind that sets my heart aflame in the dead of winter
the truest kind that burns through all injustice and greedily takes what is rightful and pure and true and shoves it forcefully down the throats of all those who dare speak in lies.

I do not know what I am saying, most of the time
and it does not bother me, most of the time
but when I speak to you,
I desire so, so badly to be heard

and I want to test your patience—
not because I want to aggravate you
or make you feel anything undesirable

I'm going to start testing the waters, okay?
I'm going to dip my toes into the pool to find the temperature,
stick an arm in to judge the depth,
hold you in my hands to feel the weight

with regular people,
it's easy.

I flow easily and effortlessly by,
knowing their innermost secrets without them saying anything,
without them knowing I even exist
and that's a part of myself I don't touch upon much

I don't want anyone to get uncomfortable
and I hate being wrong
and I love being right a little too much
I hope you can deal with that

I am outlining everything first
so that you may grasp this in the proper light,
in the proper manner

I don't yet understand love,
because it is complex and every definition is incomplete
and some are even entirely incorrect,
because yes,
that can happen.

I don't understand love,
but I think I am beginning to.

before I met you,
I was wandering lost and alone on a path no one I knew had traveled on.

before I met you,
love was a simple thing I didn't need to define,
something I knew I understood.

before I met you,
I was suffocating myself with simplicity,
strangling myself with insecurity in this life,
constricting myself with sameness like a giant snake.