we place our trust
under lock and key,
and keep our secrets locked
within the metal doors
of our mind.
not a word uttered
from our mouths
would contain
a glimpse of
that which is hidden,
but we continue
to give ourselves up
and give ourselves out
in the conquest of love.
love,
a funny word
for a funny topic.
funny because it's
not ever fully understood,
but we're
fully immersed in it.
"in love"
is a feeling of euphoria,
one that clouds all sense of reality,
a feeling of paralysis,
and uncontrollable anxiety,
that takes our breath away,
in a way that makes us feel
as if we never want it back.
a game of give and take
in order to stay in balance,
not within ourselves,
but within one another,
in which the prize is none other
than the acceptance of ourselves
by the one we call our own.
we hide the instability
of our own lives
in hope to create
a level ground for others
to walk along,
but not walk all over.
for walking all over
would create a divergence,
an inequality of power,
with no middle ground,
but would that still
account for love?
the question we ask ourselves
as we intertwine our limbs
in close quarters,
is always
am i enough?
when maybe we should be asking
am i too much?
the constant dissonance
between loving and existing
might not be because of
giving too little of ourselves,
but rather giving too much,
at which one should ask themself
if the trail of feathery kisses
they leave on the neck
of their other half
leads them to finding themselves,
and finding a home,
or leaves them wandering
towards a dead end
of worry and despair,
one filled with a different kind of anxiety,
one that makes us doubt
ever opening our mind
from behind locked metal doors
and opening our mouths
to provide a glimpse
of the madness within.