Everyday,
I wonder why I am here,
Why I am alive.
Then I look,
In the mirror,
And see evolution of centuries past,
That survived,
For me,
To be,
Here.
That's why I am alive,
For me,
For my son,
For my family,
For you.
To let you know,
Many people have struggled,
And survived,
for your existence right now.
You think you're not strong/worth it/alone?
No.
You are a result of a million years of evolution.
You are here.
I am here.
And I will carry on,
Til my mirror fades,
And it takes someone else's face.

I found you, by accident.
A pebble in the sand,  
You had been drowned by each overwhelming tide,
And battered and whittled down,
By other rocks around you.
And you ended up here,
Right in my sight, by my toes.
I bend down and pick you up,
With my hand.
I feel every smooth edge,
Every crack and every scar.
I marvel at you,
I think of the journey you had made,
To get here,
And all the years it had taken
For you to be in my hand.
I take you home, in my hands,
And place you on my bedside table,
And feel quietly serene at your closeness.
My treasure, my amazing find,
My Diamond in the rough.

I am shylock,
In the attic barely used,
Barren exuberant floorboards creak in exhalation,
Of your footsteps.
There you find me,
In the dust;
A wooden trunk with brass fixings,
Didn't I tell you I held a million treasures?
You breathe in the sunlight,  
From the round attic window,
Preening itself in your vision basked in gold.
I am shylock,
You moved a gilded hand,
Guided by a unknown force of union with the lock,
The air is silent around you,
The room is intrepid in its wanton stranger,
Who dares to enter this chamber of dust.
I am shylock,
You take my fingertips from the cup of a hand I had placed gently on your cheek,
The night before I had told you,
Of this room,
You gently take my fingers and place it on the lock.
I am shylock,
There is a gentle click,
That soon awashes the abated room,
That sways into a tsunami of grandeur,
Of history, emotion, silence and tears,
And it consumes the dust,
The acrid air and essence of my fears settle on your eyes and the homely mouth.
I am shylock,
You know how I came about,
Now,
You know how this room became accustomed to the dust,
And the floorboards, the dust,
And the window, the dark,
You are breathing me,
The trunk is open and waiting,
And at the bottom,
A ragdoll awaits your palm,
Your strength, your gentleness and patience,
This is my shy,
This is my lock,
And you entered the room and consumed me.
Burst through the door, cut down the labyrinth,
and found me.
Picking me up,
You,
Became me, attended me, held me,
with grace sensitive to my touch,  
with the intention of a protector to my defence,
And the brazen warrior to my battle.
Now I am entered and countered.
Protected and put together,
Unbound and in your arms;
Now I am open and free.
My ragdoll, your love, and me.
Together, unlocked,
together I and you become, we.

I am:
Proud
Patient
Beautiful
Confident
Strong.

I am not:
Ashamed
Intolerant
Ugly
Unsure
Weak

Personal mantra

The only thought that is keeping me going;
Is the vision of your fingers,
Putting pen to paper,
Tapping words in to the keyboard,
Dreaming of my scent,
Visualising my kisses,
Tasting my liquid passion
Hearing me call for more,
Feeling me in your grasp,
Eating me with your delicate words,
Guiding my way with your body,
Taking me to places I've never been,
Giving me your tongue to speak a new language,
Whispering sweet nothings to me,
Lying next to me sleeping effortlessly,
Writing a letter of you,
Ink stains on your fingers,
Cooking dinner in your kitchen,
Holding hands in the park,
The touch of your eyes to mine.
Keeping me going, you are the coals to my fire.

An Embrace to you,
Is all I are.
I want to unwrap you,
from your Brown paper and strings,
again and again and again.
See Me? I'm a shooting star.
Even a dandelion is a ****,
or a blossom or a wish.
Steel and gravity centred;
Flaking black paint rusting,
virtuous, falling apart at your touch,
as I unwrapped your envelope,
Of a Kiss.
I evaporate at a degree of a volcano explosion,
a white brick painted,
at the edge of the road,
I guide your way to a flaking me.
Flying as you are through my mind,
about to reach fantastical implosion
and the skies are grey and pink,
a glitter of an old wives tail;
Do you soar my darling?
As I rust here in your shadow?
Bring me back together,
Hold for me the hammer,
and I'll be the nail.

I breathe you.
You are but 26 letters
put in to a description and explanation,
a full stop. And a question mark?
26 letters,
made into something revolving around words;
A white page in a black bound book,
Is ready for you.
It's panting and heaving, for you,
the pen is lit, it's flame is dark,
the extraction of a sentence,
and the binding begins to sigh.
These pages flicker through my hand,  
as the white becomes a blur
of black letters of you;
every full stop causes the corners
to heave and quiver in anticipation
of being turned and began,
again.
You, I breathe You,
I'm the ink between my fingers,
on the pure white leaf
in my hands
and I create a book of YOU,
that has become alive in my mouth,
through silent words uttered
as I write,  
these 26 letters of moulded ink into love.
I breathe life,
In these pages of You.