IT’S ME WHO WANTS YOU
I confess
I wish I could confess my passion
The way you confess yours,
But we are different, so…
With my eyes on the past,
I saw all that I went through,
I retraced my steps
And rethought my actions.
Observing the present,
I confess that I don’t know.
I don’t know if I am worthy of your love,
Worthy of what destiny has made of us.
An ancient world made of stone,
A gray world before our era.
I don’t think about the past time,
For it is the time when you did not belong to me.
I, who ran so much from love,
Never set foot on the streets of passion,
And distracted, I was caught in destiny’s alley.
I turned left—there stood the door to your heart.
You know, talking about love is difficult,
I wasn’t trained for this.
A brave soldier with a closed chest,
But in the final breath of war I was struck down.
I don’t know why I write this,
But I know what I feel as I write,
Feeling that I have won in life
For having conquered you.
There it is, the blessed cliché.
I don’t criticize its existence,
After all, it’s only a cliché because it’s spoken.
So good is the cliché of being loved.
I apologize for not being perfect,
I try… I try, but there’s always a flaw.
I don’t say it’s my way,
But I will always treat you with respect.
I look at you
And see more than I need,
I see more than I asked for,
I see that… well, that I succeeded.
Now I think of the future,
Of how I can be present,
Of how I can gift our love
With life’s eternal bond.
I don’t know tomorrow,
I don’t know the next hours,
But I want you in every…
Every time I have left.
I was once lost, I even failed to find myself.
Today I know my path;
In you, I was able to find myself.
And if I am to lose myself, let it be in your sweet lips,
In your beautiful body, which warms my soul.
I will not continue writing,
For when it comes to you,
I have so much to say,
To speak…
But I finish by saying that I am yours,
Regardless of what comes or goes.
I affirm that I am yours,
By your side I want to be.
So good it is to be with you,
May we make it last, I hope…
I am certain of my desires:
It’s me who wants you.
Amateur Poet
P