Subjective Love

A Poem

I love it when you love me,

As your hands caress my back,

and whittle down my spine

and carve away my sides


I love it when you love me

when I can love myself,

the river flows,

raftless


I love it when you love me,

when I'm not afraid,

the dark is not so bright,

as light


I love it when you love me,

through experience,

love doth fray

a slip knot


I love it when you love me,

for when I feel able,

life is surmounted

with a horse astride my heart,

it shines


Because I love it when you love me

as the climb is over,

before it begins

and I have fallen

before I stand

or understood


I love it when you love me,

to feel, to be real,

to validate and assure

my insecurity


I love it when you love me,

a backwash of colour,

of gorgeous splendour,

is the acrylic


I love it when you love me,

in such a way,

that does undermine

teachings of time,

that hisses with sanguine


But I love it when you hate me

as I know

I am still alive

I am here

Ben Attwood
Ben Attwood

An aspiring Doctor, Writer and exaspirationalist. Realism, the sombre, humour and the profound. 

Check back regularly for whatever I feel like writing about; at least a piece a week! 

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Subjective Love