Ode to my young lover

You are a young man, and you love me.

I love you, at nearly 30.

You lay on me brash and casual

Loving me gaily, freely, joyfully. Playful,

With nearly a decade of potential between us.

Like a charge, a time-bomb.

Built into the very fibres of you

Soft, pliable.

I look at myself, carved and etched.

Nearly a decade

In stark relief.

When you hold me,

And I see how fragile it is

That our worlds meet.

It’s as if everything is already lost

My arms the orb of an oracle

You are not looking for someone to die with.

Who am I, to even make you think of your own death?

I thought I knew most ways to love.