dear love,

you have to be that cool wind and tangy sun in the quiet of the countryside for i hear the creak of the door inside me. a more honest, more nude and more true self peek behind that door later, i jump out into the open arms of your wind that tickles the wild blades of grass that don’t question when, where, whether, and why. i’d love to read about you, question you, narrate enchantments to you. i’d love to wash you clean of the dirt of the expectations of people. i’d love to scrub off the taint of misunderstanding that our insufficient and bullet glazed perceptions of you are – you know, the kind inherited from our id, ego and superego as influenced by what normalcy should be. above all, i want to feel you without doubt, fear, reservation, or question. i want to feel you away from what my friends say, what my lover envisions, and what my religion dictates. i want to feel you without feeling that i’m feeling you. i guess in a sense, come forward and let’s be a marriage of true minds, for you know i love with the mind.

yours,

muse