I don’t know if this is how a love poem begins but I’m already here.
I have carved my breathe into your ticking clock and I am being consumed by your timeless attempts to love me. I have swum in the oceans of your silence and slept in the belly of your patience for longer than I thought I would.
You loved me like the waves of the ocean that refused to part with the shore. You have swallowed me sunny and thunderstorm whole. I have become the grains of sand in your loyal hourglass hands.
Love should have been something like the bottom of the sea. It is beautiful down there. It is something like the inside of your chest. An aquarium of grace, an unconditional breathe that knows nothing about living under water.
I am constantly in the race to inhale all the love that is in here. Perhaps I will have to linger for longer than just two days.
Nights here are a glorious scape of peace, a euphoria that has tamed the ocean to lower its voice when you sing. It is beautiful in here.
I wonder if the other creatures know that there is a song such as yours. A whirlwind of engulfing passion, I am not used to this much adrenalin.
Sometimes I am caught in the midst of your raging cyclone. You wash my words away with your seasonal monsoons. And I am stuck at the centre of all your hurricane wanting to rain all over again but you refuse.
Instead you teach me how to breathe under water. You are the calm in my desert and all in the same night, the sandstorm hissing from my lips so much that I need a lighthouse to find your love again.
There in your chest.
Somewhere in my arid cavity is a love that is trying to grow into the same beauty.
Maybe for eternity this time.