And for all that I have loved there will be nothing rawer than the grass that scratches my ankles

Under the premise of love, I will teach you about the freckles scattered across my back

The moon has hidden itself from light but will still let us marvel at the craters that cover it 

How can we not be anything more than true and how can we not love

Everything that we have touched, 

Tell me about the things that will scare you most and

I will carry your authenticity in ways it

Cannot be replicated for my love for you is deep rooted in the need for your vulnerability

In our love all we feel is the scratching grass on our ankles and the secrets we hide in our skin

The raw vulnerability you hand over to me in the name of love is what I search for

Your authenticity is the grass on my ankles and the craters of the moon.