โi’ve been dying to write a poem, to bleed my ink as it rises inside of me, to tell you how i feel,
but
i run from my own words, part with them in frozen numbness, i climb some gigantic mountain and leave them trailing behind me, yet every morning i rise
and the words clog my throat, they blind my eyes and strain my soul, i reach for you,
i call out for you, i scream for you to take these words and release them from my veins,
words upon words trapping me in my own brain, a prison of thought within my heart,
i fall into silence, seeking a breathless peace, yet these words claw their way out, and i scramble to gather them,
your arms open,
my voice spills echoing between our bodies,
words become actions,
love becomes a rising symphony,
but
there’s blood within my veins that dares not speak, the tenderness of which cripples me, the brashness of which unifies my souls surrender to you,
the levels of which only gods divinity could break…
Love.
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๐ ty
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Of course! ๐
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