I Don’t Want to Know You Like They Do…

I don’t want to know
the pretty parts of you,
the good,
the beautiful ones—
I already see them,
I already sense them
when we talk.

I want to know the ugly,
what you hide at night,
what makes you cry,
of past and present
even of future, unknown
darkness, fear
I want to know the bad,
touch the scars
hear the stories,
meet the ghosts
and the monsters,
cry with you.
I do not want your silky skin,
but blood and bones
dirt and salt and dust.

I will watch you then
with wonder in my soul,
and burning love
in my veins—
for what I have
right before my eyes
is real and beautiful
and unique and

I already see the rose.
I want to feel the thorns.

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