the difference

the things i’m afraid of are quieter
around you.
no dull ache,
no pounding in my head, 
I don’t catch myself reaching for my scars 
because I’m too busy reaching for you
instead. 
so you tell me people say that
love is a storm,
and i don’t know how much i believe that
but sometimes i look at you
and understand.
if love is a storm,
we can be the palm trees tousled by hurricanes.
if love is a storm, give me the rain.
don’t you know
there is no right way to do anything?
there is only experience.
there is only feeling,
there is only “i know this
because it’s what i was taught.”
you love this, don’t you?
and i don’t know how to tell you
that we can’t have it both ways.
you want it to be a ripple and a tsunami
at the same time;
i don’t care how it is
as long as i can feel it. 
as long as those lips are on my neck,
as long as your voice
is wrapped around my name,
i don’t care.
ripple,
wave,
tsunami,
i don’t care.
funny how being numb
has a way of making love seem futile.
as if love could be
futile if it tried