on the beauty of abandon, and the truth of you
a confession
there are images of you i want to burn into my brain- if i could only frame you between my thumb and forefinger a mockery of still life the purity of them so bright and full of you that i can’t help myself from crying there is a wholeness to these moments a sheer unadulterated brightness an almost innocence i think this innocence is in the truth of who you are in these moments you lose all pretence all bravado and there is a sense of abandon as though i see nothing but you i see everything you are stripped of all you are not and in these moments the magnitude of my love sits itself thick and sticky in my throat but unlike the times before you there is no longer a sense of drowning or choking a desperate clawing for the surface above- it’s the moment before you bubble over with laughter before you burst out singing at the top of your lungs it’s the moment before you say yes; yes, yes a thousand times yes god i could drown in the sight of you towered over me wearing nothing but yourself barely contained a sort of undone that can only come in moments of pure joy pleasure or rage- a loss of restraint the thing i have learnt about this love is that whilst there is nothing that i would not give it is not in a way that leaves me empty or with nothing of my own it is just there lord knows where it came from but it has been there from the first time you made me laugh and every time after it has been there from the first time you gave me your trust so casually thrown across the table like a scrunched-up paper note- as though it had always been you and me i have been drawing lately and i will tell you now that i am no artist- but there is so much beauty in my brain that i feel as though i cannot contain it a fear that if i do not get it out if i do not make it tangible that it will tarnish and fade as memories so often do each line of your body is a dedication a resolve a sentence written with intent how could i not sit back in wonder and awe but it is the inside of you that is spoken in volumes through your voice- a timbre so rich i often find myself closing my eyes and having to promise you that i am indeed listening (I promise you I always am) it’s in your skin and the hardness to your limbs that show your strength- your patience your attention detail your pride it is the brightness of you that burns through all of this for it is not your body that i see in these moments it is the utter fullness of you the absolute the simple and bare it is you that i see in my mind it is you through and through and in this i wish to remain for it is in this that i know of honesty and of truth and it is in this that i am lost to everything but you