You’re not human.

You are the earth,
living in a low land.
Equal parts nonsense and brilliance—
exotic, deep, wet sand.
My solid, fragile wonderland.
My love, my soft quicksand.

You’re a rare and special mixture,
a raw, enticing playground.
I approach with steady movements,
the sun is beating down.
Hold me tight and swallow me, it’s
impossible to drown.

Entangled in the danger now,
logic fights desire.
Is it comfort or frustration,
resting in the quagmire?
A waterbed to float on while
sand and water conspire.

Your sediment is sopping wet.
Your tears behave like bait.
Your structure is so sensitive.
I love your tender trait.
Engulf me, please, or pull me out;
emotions carry weight.

My heart was sucked in long ago,
my head above the sand.
I wait for you to liquefy,
this wait I can’t withstand.
I’ll ask high tide to bury me
deep within my holy land.

My solid, fragile wonderland.
My love, my soft quicksand.

~