Layered

Poetry about craving depth.

I want to see you. Really see you.

I want to see how you dreamed your life would turn out. I want to live through it in the colours of my own memory. I want to see how you picture it now, if you want more. I want to see how you’ve grown, and where your roots still haven’t made their way yet.

I want to fall in love with you through the dreams you speak. I want to fall in love with everything you are, have been and will become.

‘People can only meet you as deeply as they've met themselves’

I am what you feel when you love, what you want when you love.

Interchangeable.

I am dynamic. I am full, and I am layered.

I dance when I cook, you watch, I’m in my own world as the music moves my curves around the kitchen floor. I can sing at the top of my lungs, but I get quiet if I’m asked what I want to eat. My hair smells like honeyed perfume when it's freshly washed and sprawled across the pillow.

I create, I think, I give, I dream.

I am layered.

Write poetry about the way my voice sends you to the sweetest of sleeps; you don’t care for the sound of your name unless it comes from my lips. How the weight of me is the only heaviness you want to feel on your chest, and how my scent lingers on the unwashed t-shirt that you keep as a pillowcase.

Tell me you would die for me, live for me, you would burn generational wounds from the inside out, just to keep your heart a safe refuge.

I am layered.

---