for that thing growing in your heart

If you walk away,
I will trail in your wake,
warmed by the presence of your mere memory.
And I will love you more
And I will love you more
than that first moment of kindergarten affection,
enlightened and devoid of my humanity.
for I am a purist at heart.

I will hold your hands
and kiss your knees when you weep
but never your cheek,
for grief is a horrid contagion.

And I too will weep
for that thing growing so close to your heart
for that thing trapped inside your stomach
for that thing that feels so much like love.

If I could,
I'd unhinge your upbring
and piece back together each shattered reflection.
and when the ground shakes,
I'll paint your bruises over with shades of
pink
and green
and fuchsia.
and when the time comes,
we'll paint them black with nostalgia.

and I'll kiss your knees
and sing a song to your belly
and watch as dirty rivers form across your face
and I'll  close my eyes, because the hurt's too much.

I want to pull out your grief,
like a cancer from your lungs,
and watch as it pulsates
and writhes with the fervor of a mournful heart.

I want to write your name across the skyline
and whisper it in melodies to the airwaves.

But in truth,

I fear that my love will fall to the scope of man's achievements

in truth,

I fear my love will fester like a sore, a reminder of soured camaraderie.

let the scabs ripen,
rip them open and start anew.
I want a reason to love your pain away.