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And when I tell you I love you
I mean that my satellites
have ceased revolving around me
and have come to borrow their light from you,
that the fire that illuminates
my skin from within
is kissed by the sun
that learned how to shine
by watching you do your thing

When I tell you you’re in my heart
I mean that I long for you
in the deepest recesses of my soul
and feel you governing
the most intimate utterances
of the subconscious I am only
somewhat acquainted with,
that you are at the core of me
and your liquid essence
flows through the caverns
of my person
closer than my next
immediate thought

And when I tell you I am yours
what I’m really saying is that I am ready
to wear the details of your past
around my ring finger
and stitch the hem of my dreams
onto the seams of whatever
future you’ve chosen;
I’m saying I’m about to
alchemize my plans
and amalgamate them with
the 365 days of your every year;
I’m saying I am waiting for your
tide to rise,
for your traffic to subside,
for your arms to have time
to put a barricade between my body
and my superficial obligations
so that I could belong to you
the way unheard songs belong to silence,
the way gravity belongs to the earth.



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