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Blissfully Ruined

Date Written: October 8, 2017

Aching with proud vulnerability,
reminding myself I don’t have to apologise
a hundred times a day just for being me,
that I have nothing to be sorry for,
but I stand here, frozen, worrying
that I will not survive if You do not
hold me and quell the fear
in my shaking nerves.
Longing to tell You that I love You but
I just can’t form the words. I’ve been broken and
I am still learning how to put that back
together. I am not the same kind of brave
that You are. I am not able to peel
myself away and shed the quaking
inside. There are a thousand things
that I want to tell You and the syllables
just don’t come out. They freeze. Suspended
in time because it is never the right moment.
Quivering at the thought of Your arms
holding me safe. Secure. Loved. Where the
home in my heart is. All I desire is to be a
different kind of brave.
So here it is: I love You and I don’t know
what I am supposed to do to show You. I
don’t think anything I ever do will be an
adequate form of expression if I try to speak
the words. But this I do know, I can show You.
Let my hands, my lips, my body spell out
what letters can’t. Let me write sonnets on
Your skin with my hands. Poems with my lips.
Let my body write love letters across Your skin.
Let me ruin You so that You never crave the
touch of another and You forget all that came
before me. Let me ruin You for You have
already blissfully ruined me.

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