I think that I could love you

I think that I could love you.

Honestly, I know I could.

But one thing that is standing between my desire and your arms

Is what YOU want.

All that I have to offer is this, but I know part of you still wishes you had that

Your heart is a little limp from that lover from your past.

And I see the hole that she left, the one that looks like her

With the silhouette of the hair and every curve.

And I know that a triangle peg can’t fit into a square hole

And the love that I have could never feed your soul

In the way that it wants, in a way that would make you feel whole.

And I know that I could love you, because to me you are satisfying

This hunger that I’ve started realizing

For an honesty and realness that I’ve had trouble finding

That makes me expose parts of my heart I’ve been hiding

Slash saving for someone that’s worthy of confiding in.

But honestly, I’m unsure if my love offering

Is enough to take this relationship to a level that is mutually edifying.

As the gold plate goes by, I’m not sure if my love contribution

Would or could ever be the solution

For your untouchable contusion.

And even if you loved me too, I know sometimes I’d wonder:

“Do you look at me and think of her?”

Ode to my body

Today , right now, I am a young woman, in an oversized shirt on my friend's couch, listening to Iron and Wine, reflecting on this moment.
I am just this small soul in this even smaller body,
Trying to appreciate every peaceful breathe between stretches of anxiety.
Trying to enjoy the view of my thick, bare legs,
Firm and strong,
One leg extended,
One foot tucked behind the other calf
And my little pink toes tapping in the air.
Trying to embrace the intricate caves of my mind.
This complex maze of endless perceptions and constant conception.
It's late as I yawn and stretch.
I lay my left arm on the couch, sprinkled with little scars and other imperfections.
And as I'm striving to excavate these caverns And deciding if the left or right will lead me to a dead end,
I'm jotting down the paths of my mental expedition containing beautiful directions to nowhere in particular or externally important.
Because I'm just a young woman, propped up on a sofa,
Tilting her head,
Trying to catch the coal and diamonds that are inside.