Letters from the past

 

Okay. 

I'm ready to deal with you. 

You, and all the things you so neglectfully called ''mistakes''. 

You were true, free from your thoughts - drunk, last Friday.

Your mouth was saying everything your eyes have been screaming all along, all this time.

Your body was ready - your heart was strong and your mind blurred. 

Just to be honest here, with each other and ourselves, the truth is this: 

Our bodies desire what our brains are too weak to demand.

Our hearts have found a rhythm to beat on which our bodies desire to dance.

You can call it mistake, or wrong; but it's not how it's called.

It's Affection! It's Passion! It's Desire! 

I refuse to be blindfolded to this

 but there's nothing I can do

to make you see how things really are 

I could use lyrics and poems and quotes and songs.
I could use words and moves and looks.

But I won't be pushing you or forcing you to dare
to let
yourself
free.

Your eyes have told me all the things your mouth wouldn't say.

You are scared.

You are lonely.

You are a mess.

But I'm a broom.

And I'll be there

to fix you.

 p.s. This is a letter-style poem I wrote in 2015.