metamorphosis,
is a concept often frowned upon.
our bodies denied to us
and our bodies
despised for us.
you tell me to change my body
i do
you tell me to hate that change
i do
and you tell me to stop my crying.
so i say to myself,
that i'll leave from them, where i'm not welcome,
and you hate this too.
i’m consumed, neither permitted to exist with you,
or to not.
understanding is a form of love
and by you i am offered none.
"you" become "them",
and they become a thing of the past
a thing to forget (or to try).
and in the vacancy,
'their' absence births a new 'you'
and in you?
(delicately now)
perhaps understanding may be found.
yes.
a love born of a life lived in tandem
not together
but in tandem all the same,
lives in parallel making beautiful room for true passion.
trace your finger across my breast
and envision what strife brought it,
to where i am now
was that strife yours too?
it belies the beauty we can now share.
i have always hated my body - perhaps you have hated yours?
i’d tell you i can’t see why,
but that would be lying
because isn’t that the nature of our love?
union in our self-hatred.
such a cynical interpretation.
is that how people see us?
maybe none of the beauty i see can be seen by the others
an intimacy shared perhaps,
but of whispered confessions where none else will look.
but no.
i will not acquiesce to such a misery.
for our love is beautiful,
they say it’s decadent, then perhaps it is decadence.
decadence, heartbreakingly beautiful decadence and joy.
i will grasp this decadence with all my heart
and ask you,
when i must exert such obsessive ownership over my body
when others will try and wrest that control from me
may i give my body to yours, just for a time?
so please.
rest your head in my arms,
let your hair rest in my face.
kiss me,
and let this decadence so horrible,
fill us with the melody of how beautiful it truly is.
metamorphosis (resurrection),
is a concept often frowned upon
but without it
could love be so sublime?