Some say I am too young to carry a shoulder of such wisdom and sorrow, others call me a fool for leading a life with her hearts rule.
I try and explain that it really is all worth the pain, even all those moments when I came undone and unraveled into such despair, that I had nothing left to share but the echoes of my own deafening cries for mercy.
I have never given up on you.
I am always a bit strange, ferociously sensitive towards everything that fluently touches me to strengthen the beauty that I seek to find by the edge of the quiet water.
I know she is out there. She is my obsession. She is my salvation.
I nuzzle my dreams in her fate and feel alive with hopes of coming across her glorious embrace.
Others ask me to grow thicker skin but my skin has always been browning, transparently true of reflecting the rays of the moon and a maturing coloured womb.
No matter how alien you may seem me to be, I am a woman full of such love that it tortures me at night. I cry for you.
I jump up in hazy freight when I long for you. Words fall short of describing how much I need you.
I yearn for your gentle voice to press up on the side of my neck and tell me that we can make it together, for the feel of your lips pressed against my mind.
This is the only way that I can feel unwind.
In a rotation the pain I have inside stirs a serenity that leaves me parulized towards only you.
The truth is I dare to believe in you, because I love you.
So much more than I ever dreamt I could love, I do.