Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
I wonder if anyone has studied me in the ways I’ve studied you,
Faithfully cataloging every habit and hobby and quirk,
Because to be known is to be loved, and how i love you,
The great loves of my life, my sisters, friends, and not quite lovers,
I wish to cradle you close, in the palm of my hand.
Every act of creation is done with you in mind,
A gift, made with the hope of being treasured by you,
To make you understand the depths of my love,
I try to cry out, “see, see how i know you! See how i love you!”
But speaking the words is a difficult task that leaves me vulnerable,
To a rejection i couldn’t face if you didn’t know or understand,
The depths of my love.
So i’ll choke on the blooms of my love for all of you,
The great loves of my life, become part of me,
In lilies and peonies and lavender, crawling up my lungs,
And i would gladly die, just for the thought of having given you,
The hope, the feeling, or even the faintest notion,
That you were loved.