If you would let me

If you would let me, I'd pour cement molds for all your insecurities and let them rest at the bottom of the marianas trench.
I'd take all the skeletons in your closet and use them as decorations for Dia de los Muertos
I'm sure once they see a little sunshine and feel the touch of someone who wants to know your full story, they'll remember how to dance.
I'd draw fingerpainted pictures on all of your scars to remind you that I think your skin is beautiful- you know, I haven't been able to stop thinking about the birthmark on your upper back.
I would become a hazy sunrise over the skyline of Los Angeles, strips of orchid pink illumination that cut through the smog like a simple truth- just to prove that you find beauty in unexpected places

I want to hear the hidden track on the album that you've been recording since you were born.
I learned a while ago that patience is a virtue, and I've been practicing it in excess ever since we met.
and I heard that the only thing to fear is fear itself
so i can't figure out why you're so scared to be near me.

If you would let me, I would sing for you when all other music goes silent.
I would replace your wallet and your watch
because we would finally have enough time to spend together.
I would soothe the knots in your back that are tied by a worried mind
I would fold you into my arms and put your ear to my chest so you could hear my blood rushing to the last places your fingertips rested.
I would wake you up with jasmine scented butterfly kisses across your cheekbones and make you coffee because we'd been up late the night before

I would tell you secrets without even speaking
mesmerize you with my dancing body
and succumb to you completely.

If only you would let me... but you won't.
so your hesitant nature is multiplying and rebounding into my sub arachnoid space
there are spiderwebs of doubt weaving through my mind
with eight legged second guessing thoughts lurking in their corners.

so please, slide open the windows behind your eyes
I promise I'll step in quietly.
let the curtains flutter with the autumn wind that howls
like it's searching for something.
let it seep through the cracks in the walls you've put up in front of me
and outline all the flaws you're afraid to admit you have.
Because I would take your faults and stencil them them into candle flames that all eventually burn down,
leaving you with the scent of smoke, but no trace of the original fire.

if you would let me,
I'd become your new spark
I'd be embers that glow in your forearms and the soft flickering up your spine
I'd swirl through each vertebrae with gentle warmth
and become a wildfire in your veins.

If you'll let me.