I’ve got Words for Dirty Lovers. Let’s Talk about it All.
{source}
I’ve got words for dirty lovers.
For the miscreants and the scholars. For the maladjusted feigns and all the in-betweens.
I’ve got questions and answers; statements and disasters.
Stay with me, I’ll take you everywhere.
First off, can we be kind? Can we work and play and heal and learn and love and fail and strive to do better, to be better?
Can we talk about our hopes, our fears?
Can we talk about everything and nothing, maybe even at the same time?
I hope that we can. I hope we shift into winter and let it bring us the warmth that the summer never could. Because we are too bold to be tamed by the heat. The furnace in our hearts is cranked up extra high in the winter and this is when we reek our havoc.
Let’s love. Let’s love with swollen hearts. Mines clumsy and too big for my fists (they’re supposed to be proportional, aren’t they?) Let’s never learn how to love softly, only how to smother.
I hope we can talk about the sweetness and the sorrows. The tingles and the touches and the subtle imperfections. I’ll tell you about my blaring insecurities. Like how sometimes, I have to give myself pep talks before social situations (there will be people there who know and like you / you look great / no one really cares about how weird you feel, it is okay) and about how I’ve always wanted to be big enough to fill the gaps, I’ve always wanted to mean something to someone.
I’ll tell you everything.
Let’s talk about our collected thoughts, drowned and still dependent on sleep in the morning. Let’s talk about our maps. The ones we keep inside. There are corners that haven’t rolled out fully. Torn and tattered, aged by the sunlight. They reek of paper bound too tightly, pulsing through its packaging..
Let’s talk about why we keep everyone here — wrapped loosely at our seams instead of inside, where they belong. Let’s let everyone in to the corners and the crevices and the dark heavy caves of our hearts and each of our other vital organs.
Let’s talk about the kisses that sometimes replace conversation and the dark comfort that comes with it. Let’s talk about the smiles pressed against our lips, the eyelashes resting upon our cheeks and that first touch that sends all the ripples down our spines, making us arch and ache at the same time.
Let’s always be in love. Not in any way that matters, but just in this moment, with this moment. And let’s recognize the beauty of that and the inescapable madness of momentary love. Let’s not lessen it and let’s choose to give it equal importance to the eternal kind of love. Let’s fight each other with foreign fists, for a place to stay, for a place to lay, even if it’s just for the night.
Let’s talk about the intricacies and the imperfections and all the in-betweens. Lets talk about the complications. Everyone with their own separate swirls of hurts, humiliations, triumphs and tragedies. Let’s tell them that these are not the things that will ever dictate their worth, let’s repair their severed spirits with our own.
Lets talk about the homesickness and the nostalgia and the bitter aches of past and the scents of childhood memories swirling in our eyes. Let’s talk about the warmth of our lovers arms in the twilight and how this, this tangled embrace is our definition of love, at least for now. Lets talk about the cadence with which we inhale each other because we’re so unafraid, so willingly and so brave. Lets talk about never letting that go: our earnestness.
Lets sink our supple teeth into each other’s tender skin for as long as they let us because that’s just the right amount of time.
Let’s not minimize the intensity of anything. Let’s be gutted with it all.
Let’s see each other in every kind of light — the harsh blues and the fractured infrareds that leave us looking dull and blotchy — let’s look at each other and marvel at each hue.
Let’s exhaust ourselves with our words. Let’s scream whole choruses down each others throats until we can taste the melodies every time we inhale.
Let’s talk about it all. I want to know your favorite color and how it felt the first time you fell in love. I want to know about your relationship with your mother and how you take your coffee.
Let’s start each day with the same shaky chorus: be better, get better, it’s better. Let’s talk until it all makes sense and then lets beat the sense senseless.
Let’s talk about the compassion that we shall ooze at every necessary hour, for every necessary friend or foe. Let’s talk about redemption and second chances and learning how to be whole again. Let’ s hope that we are still somewhat capable. Let’s make sure there is enough fight left in us to be the boomerang, to be the old song, to be the record that keeps spinning. Let’s always keep returning.
Lets stop spending so much time feeling like were always going to be somebody’s back-burner joke, some overlooked thing. Why do we have to be so many things, so many tiny, insignificant things? Validation is bullshit and worthiness shouldn’t have prerequisites.
So let’s be better than the punch line, than any surface thought. Let’s be big enough to fill the gaps ourselves. Let’s talk about the universe swelling in our eyelids each morning. Let’s talk about how for the first time in a long time, we’re reminded of how good things could be. About how good things are.
Let’s talk about the unlimited potential of this. Let’s be vibrant again, let’s be recognizable. Let’s trust our intention and believe in our goodness. Let’s desire with direction, lets dust it all off.
*****
{Let’s be the song}
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