Italicized Love

Just let me twist your arms, your legs, and dissect the ensemble in you. Let me rummage through your bones, and unscrew all your joints, and tickle your mouth, and finally feel your heart. But don't push your heart into my hand. Let me inspect it first, let me play with your keys, let me joke with your peeves. I can unceremoniously discard you from the spaces between my fingers, but I won't. Let me bend your knees and your elbows, let me see through your contact lenses, let me breathe through you. Leave me in your library. Leave me in your lexicon. Leave me in the depth of your consonants and vowels. I'll drum my fingers on your freckles and tickle your spine without you knowing it. You're funny.

But, darling, as I backspace through my nonsensical jargon, don't let go of me. You'll be my beacon for some time. You'll be my safeword through the coughs and headaches. Be my anchor—make sure I don't always lose myself in these crosswords. Magnify my movements, italicize my locomotion, lazily drawl your analysis of me as we daydream in camouflaged pillow forts, but don't treat me like a pet. Play me whimsical music in the silence. Don't let me dangle alone from my noose. Join me in my frescades, but not always. Look through my telescope when I ask you to, and I definitely will. Be my poet and be my daily news. Give me permission to tattoo litanies and fairytales on your milky ribcage, and under your wrist, and somewhere on your ear. Be my duet partner, and come rushing with me through the forest. Pen me with undivided attention and undiluted love. Don't argue that I'm impassioned about this—don't take it away from me, and don't abuse your freedom. But—and there is always a but—feel free to clamor with me. Opine about my lifestyle, my wardrobe, or the way I laugh. Frustrate me, frustrate yourself. Be human. I won't hold you back if you be you.

photo disclaimers—credits: x x