If This Heart Can Plead

A long ode of imaginary banter from heart to stubborn self. I warned you …

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Make space for me, my love

My curves, my smiles and fury

I started off with strings from every angle;

Through the years, a few notes have been played,

Broken, strung and slayed

Make space for me, my love

My punches are strong

Yet kisses are sweet

I’ve taught your lips

And tongue the moves of intimate hips

Make space for me, my love

My sides have been scratched

I won’t deny, I heal through seasons;

Last few Winters have been windy, Summer and Spring had some sun

But Fall is when I am one

Make space for me, my love

My pulses know the words before you speak

When feelings become emotions, you crumble in a million questions

I know your pain, sighs and vulnerabilities

Trust that I know your capabilities

Make space for me, my love

My apologies, as I’ve always been alone in you

I swear I can more than manage,

I’ll send you pulses for signals to warn and seek

Love, be courageous yet meek

Make space for me, my love

My! Before your bright eyes to see or

Curious hands to touch, a pulse…a beat

Dug-doog. Dug-doog

You sent your first message even before those text messages!

Make space for me, my love

My guards are high up until down below

And there I thought you’re not a fan of ironman

Bring the walls down, breathe, let go and let be

Don’t let yourself wander too far till eternity

Make space for me, my love

My feelings are immense, I know

I get too excited when you’re in Kung Fu panda mode

I’ll sit with you through the swords, silence and sensuality

I promise one day, it will be more than just a dramedy

Make space for me, my love

My words have become so cheesy

I’ve aged like dairy

Let me in, please

So I can finally serve you some hot curry

Make space for me, my love

My jokes have not changed, they’re still corny

Sprinkled with bits of truth

I know you’ve already done your list

My love, you gotta let me in …

Head and face

Arms and hands

Legs and feet

Butt and womb

Spine and stomach

I’m beating myself in frenzy

With your crazy inventory

Make space for me, my love

Through seasons to seconds

From salsa to slow dances

Question marks to commas

Zodiacs to Hail Marys

Love letters to playlists

Sheep running back to your shepherd

From genre to genre

Appetizers to take outs

Make space for me, my love

I’ve lost all my strings

And walk around with my underpants in the morning

I promise you a cuppa

I promise you it can happen again

And again

But my love, please open the door

There’s always room for more.

 

Will, I am.

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Photo by: Pascal Campion

I’ll give you a name,

because you mean something to me.

More than just the penny in my pocket,

you’re the warmth in my tummy after pumpkin soup.

 

I’ll clasp my hands together more often,

eyes closed and everything.

because I’m not begging for you,

you’re the reason for my rugged rosaries.

 

I’ll wear my glasses all day,

and not just in the office to see Powerpoint slides from afar.

Because when you cross the road,

I want to know the color of thread on your shirt buttons.

 

I’ll finish the book,

and not one of those weekend binges to escape my mind.

Because I want to be a somebody five years from now,

and I want you to be there with me.

 

I’ll listen to the mixtape,

I need to start somewhere.

Because my hips needs to find its own rhythm

and I eventually want you to hold them when they do.

 

I’ll be eating porridge and fruits in the morning,

because this is how I do.

Toast when I’m anxious

but I promise we can do with some bagels or waffles on weekends.

 

I’ll do the dishes and the cleaning,

because I’m good at it.

The ironing and anything above an arm’s length my head,

no. That’s all yours.

 

I’ll always sell you an idea for dinner,

because I’m an Ad girl at heart.

I’m all about the references,

them words in those lines and them meaning between it all – my antics.

 

I’ll be the frustrated patriot,

because I’ve got no home.

The places I know,

is a washing machine full of my laundry.

 

I’ll be doing a lot of things,

I’ll be changing from person to person,

I’ll be all sorts of crazy,

because that’s what I’ve got to do.

because I need to keep going.

because I need to.

What I think about when I think about loving

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What I think about when I think about loving

Let’s replace the butterflies with bees
A constant list of things to do
Of ways to be better
Of ways to be

Let’s replace the fireworks with a flame
Just one that stays burning
Stay away from the explosives,
The aftermath burns

Let’s replace the theme song with a soundtrack
Transitional, track after track
Grow up from fleeting moments
Live past ever after

Let’s replace the superlatives with consistency
Balance the emojis with dates and a night in
Pajamas with nachos
But remember there’s always room for stilettos and white knights

I remember I always wanted that look Leonardo Di Caprio had when he saw Claire Danes through the aquarium
I wanted that moment when Shane West built a telescope for her to see the stars
Breakfast, it is sacred and sharing the moment should be a blessed sacrament

I still fumble with my keys at the doorstep
I still smile with the first morning greet
I still roll my eyes at natural quirks and end with a laugh
It’s silly but I still…

Home cooked meals and vinyl records
Dim lights and road trips
Street food and take aways
Through the morning rush
And the turning of newspaper pages

In all it’s intensities
Passed through the ambiguity
Questioning capacities
Across my palm lines
Awkward cliches and broken cracks
I still think about love