The Accidental Poet dan repost
You tell me “I am too much”
as if your heart were a forbidden place,
locked away,
as if feeling deeply were a wound that refuses to heal.
But sweetheart,
I crave the storm in you,
the tempest hiding in your chest,
the wild, unbridled surge of emotions no one else dares to face.
Let me drown in your chasms, wade through the shades of silence,
trace the flimsy map of your contusions,
run my fingers over every indented rim, each splintered shard
where the light has seeped out, yet somehow, beauty outshines despair.
If your love is a battlefield, then call me to arms.
If it’s fire, let me be consumed until I am ash.
I have always craved for a place fierce enough, raw enough,
to measure the depth of what I feel
a place that dares to test if my heart can stand unbroken,
even in the heart of your storm.
as if your heart were a forbidden place,
locked away,
as if feeling deeply were a wound that refuses to heal.
But sweetheart,
I crave the storm in you,
the tempest hiding in your chest,
the wild, unbridled surge of emotions no one else dares to face.
Let me drown in your chasms, wade through the shades of silence,
trace the flimsy map of your contusions,
run my fingers over every indented rim, each splintered shard
where the light has seeped out, yet somehow, beauty outshines despair.
If your love is a battlefield, then call me to arms.
If it’s fire, let me be consumed until I am ash.
I have always craved for a place fierce enough, raw enough,
to measure the depth of what I feel
a place that dares to test if my heart can stand unbroken,
even in the heart of your storm.