To love you in comfort
to spare you from uncertainty.
To shield you from worry,
to keep love’s roots clean,
and free them from doubt within.

To give, to sacrifice, to care,
to blend, and to obey.
To be supportive—a woman and a lover.
Oh, I try to love you as I should,
and still, I fail.

I cannot only love you in comfort.
I need to love you in the dark—
to wade through waters so deep, I lose sight of my feet,
to thread the clouds of troubles like silk between fingers.
To dive deep, where I can be real, spontaneous, raw.

I need to surrender the wheel—
to trust you to take it forward.
To hold me, feel me,
know me—and accept me.

Oh, how I hate to feel less,
to feel left—neglected, and frail.
And how it hurts when my darkest thoughts prevail,
when my demons feast over my terror.

Why are you so cold, so distant?
Why do you feed my fears,
give my doubts the victory they crave?
Do you love my tears that much?
Are they proof enough for you,
for I have tamed the beast within?

Oh, I am a woman,
and perhaps my fate is this:
to marry my broken dreams,
to accept the scars of the fire
that once gave my soul its light,
to find love within destruction.

For then, I might finally learn
to be a lover in the comfort,
a woman in the dark—
to stay whole in the better,
keep still in the worse.
To surrender and feel, brave enough to be real.