Love

To be real is a thing, and I would like to be fucking real all the time.
If I could. I would like to be a useful and organic part of communities.
I would like to cherish, trust, and be with you, and you with me.
I would like to lend you my car, so that you take good care of it.
I would like to sail, and swim, and brave through winds, together.
I would like to defend by trusting. I would like to stay open.
I would prefer clear borders and real closeness at the same time.
I would like to face my obstacles, with you. And your obstacles.
I would like to look into clear mirrors, to polish mine.
This is love in action.

Compassion is to come through, to where you are.
Compassion is a joint direction. Is your direction.
Oh my God, how much I like to be recognized and appreciated, for who I am.
How much I like to be seen, in my uniqueness.
And how much I am learning to appreciate you, for your own unique mix.
It almost pains me to feel this. This love to be seen, and to perceive.
Instead of waiting for connection, stepping out for it,
leaving this fragile shell and to lean into your direction.
I would like to share the deepest joy and the deepest sorrow,
the deepest skin, the deepest smile and tear.