How could I?

How could I be this naïve to ask for love?
To pray for its softness and fire so that I may melt all of me, finally into you
How could I be so foolish to ask for love when I wouldn't know love other than a fantasy?
A dream I dream every night and most days, because the more I unravel and see of myself, the clearer you get

How could I dare beg of the stars and study the tides for your coming, when I have never felt your arms around me, fingers intertwine, or my head on your chest?
When I can hardly remember how it feels to find home in anothers' heartbeat.  


How could I? How can I possibly sing or write or color the pages of a wish for you when i haven't felt the kiss of your mouth upon mine?
When I haven't lured or been lured into another's soul properly and feverishly

I know nothing of love
I beg the Gods of its grace but I know nothing
To anticipate your love is a disservice to it
Asking for an idea of a force far greater I could conjure, and yet it is a human's condition to salivate at the thought of food

I have wondered about this deep love
A thirst quenching messy hair lost in heaven kind of love
Shake life alive again
That kind of love
And here I go again, giving words and context to a person, a spirit yet to declare itself

Thanking you before you have even obliged.

How could I be this naïve to float at the thrill of you when your entrance has yet to be made?