I want to be loved so
much that it doesn’t
hurt, sting, ache, etc.
I want to be loved so
much that it’d be impossible
to manifest itself into any
imaginable misery–
any “I can only imagine”
analogy of agony.
Yet, I’ve lucklessly fallen
victim to a recurring,
bad daydream:
It’s being trapped amidst
the coldest conditions
a human could possibly
get close to surviving,
and if the temperature
happens to violently
to drop and drop,
I’d cross my fingers
for a dedicated someone
whose instincts would
find a way to find me,
instead of indulging in
my needless suffering–
like the rest have done.
I’d hope for someone
who would never turn
their kind hand into
a sharp weapon–an
ice pick, chipping
carelessly away at
my rock-solid, yet
real-as-ever heart–
each hit causing
the roughest
heart beating.
I get scared–
sometimes it hurts
just that bad or worse.
I know love’s not meant
to leave a weakened
heart–barely moving–
night after night,
pressed against gravel,
no one by its side.
Real love is different–
real love saves you
from such anguish,
such irrevocable,
unprecedented loss
of innocence.
Real love, during
below-zero nights,
finds you both
the coziest bed,
tucks you in as
it climbs beneath
the duvet cover,
it guarantees silent
kisses on edges of
your now-warm lips.
Real love clasps
your hands gently
together,each finger
wrapping carefully
around one another.
Then it will
all make sense–
you’ll never be
that cold again.
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
prguitarman
amandla
