I want to know you like an old house.
I want to know your broken-down floorboards that creak under pressure,
The ones that drove you back to dust when you tried to fix them.
I want to know why the melody with each footstep is a ballad balancing inevitable fate and truth.
Why each move forward could send me through the stairs
Because the wood is old and worn
And tired of being used.
I want to know why the nails that pierce through the cracks
Made you bleed nostalgia out of nervousness and neglect.
I want to know you here, because this is what holds you up and breaks you down.
I want to know your walls.
The ones that started out white
And blameless and far from being broken,
But now they're scarred and scared
By the sound of her voice.
They're scratched and unstable by slow lies and security of someday.
I want to know the paint that peels from the wall and chips from a touch
Because it's been used to be useless.
Bent and broken, it fits in my hand,
But I can’t put it back.
The black spaces that fill what used to be,
The echoes of syllables that replace the feeling of home.
I want to know this part of you, because it's a part of me too.
I want to know the shadows that follow you,
The ones that haunt you.
They surrounded you, like dust dancing in the dark.
In their embrace, you lie among the memories
That are no longer yours.
They are placed between boxes of things you never wanted
And the ones you want to forget
But you can’t.
Because they are you.
Faint reminders of phantoms that handled you
By harbouring their strength
In hurting you.
I want to know the ache
Of autumn leaves under boots
And walks downtown
that kiss your cheek
When the air gets cold.
I want to know your past, because it’s who you are now.
I want to know the sunlight that shines
The things that make you smile.
I want to know your eyes,
Because this is how you see the world,
And even as your hair turns grey,
They won’t ever change.
I want to feel breathless by looking at you,
Because being beside you beats my heart
In its cage of butterflies.
I want to know your hands,
The ones that hold mine for an infinite moment
When handling life is impossible.
I want to know your laugh when it’s warm,
On walks outside of the dust and dirt and dreary reminders of the dearly departed.
I want to know your little things, because they make you smile.
I want to know you as more than an abandoned house.
I want to know you like no one else does.
The words that walls keep hidden,
The secrets that spill onto the pages of books on your shelf,
The questions on your mind in the quiet,
And your thoughts when music starts playing.
I want to know you here,
Because this is where your mind wanders in daydreams
And in the darkness.