There’s something you ought to know
if ever you decide to hold my hand -
I am as wild as the ocean waves
that crash and dance upon the sand.
My soul is far too wild, dear,
and it is like that of a growing flame -
I hardly care to reign it in,
and prefer to leave it untamed.
My heart is not crimson, love,
it is ebony, and it’s only ink I’ll bleed.
I won’t falter in love for you,
and your acceptance is all I’ll need.
My mind pours unbidden
unto this ivory web page,
and I shan’t try to bridle it,
nor keep it within its cage.
I breathe poetry only, honey,
and my lips are stained with rhyme.
I will not change how I am,
and I doubt that I will change in time.
I am not so different from you -
Your loyalties are to yourself,
and mine are so deeply entwined
to the lines of poetry upon the shelf.
So, if you seek to claim me,
you have to understand from the start,
that writing is the only thing
that has ever truly reached my heart,
But, my dear, I will write you in it
if you wish to remain cherished, too.
My loyalties are to my pen,
but darling, I could just as easily love you.