rose-water

i've been trying to wrap my head around whats been going on, the growth, the ebb(ing) and flow(ing), the beauty and convulsiveness, the pain the joy the love the warmth, all of it. i want to relate in all truthful ways. in all honesty and rawness and with all undersides exposed to the light. the light, your eyes, your mind, your heart. i want to come to you as myself. mySelf, only. not myself in relation to you. not myself as influenced or scarred by recent wounds in our dynamic. i want you to know me as me; me with the holes- the punctures the sensitivities the inarticula-cies the inadequacies the strength the will the deep love and care that i am capable of coming to you with.

i don't want my responses to be influenced by the fragile voices that argue inside metal tunnels that have no beginning or end, no opening in sight, and our mere confusion about how we got there. i want to show you the blood that circulates around, draw you a map of its path, a diagram indicating probabilities of sensibilities- escapist routes- safe bases- hazardous zones- homeward sources. i want to Prove, with my arms baring every and any angst of bitter strength. baring line and pulse, tension, vibration. nerves, muscles, tendons, ligaments. pulling, urging, begging, wanting. i want you to know i am trying my best. i want you to know i am willing to be real. i want you to know i desire you in my life. to this degree. to that degree. to large and vast and immense degrees. i desire. i desire. i desire you. i desire you.


and with this exists pain. fear exists. i want to prove love, desire and will, by coming to you as a pure and wide open creature. i want and wish i could come baring my clean skin, untainted by an accumulation of having lived, of the weight that (That) brings. i will come to you with all i can possibly give and show and admit and promise. at this point. in my life with you. and in that, i will be honest and tell you that i am not perfect. i cannot even swoop down and lift you up higher than all this. all i can do is offer you my hand and possibly dream of doing some swooping and dipping at a later point after having walked and run and gently stepped around each other's lives together, hand in hand, coming to each other- deeply into each other's eyes- as what we can come to each other with.

i am not perfect. i am also very inadequately suited, and very suited and able to love and be loved. i am guilty and i am embarrassed, and yet in all of it i have been myself.

i do wish i could channel the hopeless-romantic character in my psyche- tell them to channel that accent and give you what you want to hear, promise you blood, roses, saliva, pellets of opiates lightly dissolved in sugar water... and although there are clues and clear truth in our alter egos, i still need to stand on this bone-dry ground and promise you with the blankest stare that there is actually warmth in my dark eyes, and that i am human ..afterall..
...
i want to be accepted for myself. i want to be understood and adored, as an imperfect creature, as one that gives what they can give and is solid and confident in the appearance and existence of their heart.

i want Not to create a ground for insecurity. i want Not to have my imperfection be mistaken as weakness.
i want to be understood as living and breathing and still, so still, trusting and loving as i know i am.