what i love about loving you, with love — Summary

akchiisRomantic

i write this with an inexperienced hand, one not yet rough with the calluses of another whose seen nirvana with their own eyes, one not scarred with the hurts of a dozen lost others, seared with the burning flames of life's never-ending pains; but one, smooth as silk, a fresh cloth to be marked and used, before i peak into my unique beauty.

i write with pure ignorance, words of advice forced into these ears, meaning well, of things ive never understood, of foreign lands and the sad tales of sailors who were lost to the sirens prowling the dark waters, looking for fish, but only to be devoured in a pathetic leap of faith. dangling my legs above infested waters, i wonder if i will join the dead, in a cry for love, only to chant affections into the sea foam below, never to arise again.

i write, with eyes who have yet to see the world, living in the same red well my whole life, the same patchwork of the night sky; i have it all memorised. i have seen the same purpled hue of the night for 17 years of my sheltered life, fallen in and out of love with the same constellations through that tiny window, counted the same stars over a painful eternity, dazed orbs dancing around my small room in a died down symphony, one coming to its final chord of resignation, a minor key, for my aching soul.

but let me give you this inexperience.

my hands may not be rough and known, but i can grant you the softness of spring, innocent love blooms into your palms, youth like no other, for you, if only youd let me.

my mind, immature and naive, but there are no locks in this heart of mine. a cave, dotted with hidden gems just for you, if only you trust me with the harness, and let me explore yours too.

my eyes, used to the same glow of twilight, relishes in upturned crescent moons, crinkling with stardust as all i see is beauty, and in it, a music score with no end, no V7 to resolve, a sonata which goes on and on, growing with the new moon in us, flourishing, into something worth living for.

may my hands become battered and torn with my own blood, my mind shattered by the tragedies of life, my eyes blinded by staring right into the sun, reaching for something i shouldnt have; but for now,

let me give my all to you, and let me relish in your best.

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The speaker is a seventeen-year-old who feels sheltered and unmarked by life, and who turns that weakness into an offer of love. The first half is full of self-doubt. Their hands are "smooth as silk," they have heard warnings about love and loss, and they have watched the same night sky through one small window for their whole life. The sailors lured by sirens suggest a fear that love can end in drowning, yet the speaker still dangles their legs over the water, tempted.

Then the poem turns at "but let me give you this inexperience." What looked like a lack becomes something to give: softness, an open heart with "no locks," and eyes that find beauty everywhere. The music imagery, ending on a note that never has to resolve, suggests a love the speaker hopes will keep growing.

The mood moves from lonely and wistful to tender and hopeful. The ending accepts that pain will probably come, but asks for now to be enough.

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