Wild flower.

I am honestly not sure if I should fear you or hug you.

Probably both.

Probably neither?

And just wait until you walk up to me and hold my hands.

Or my face and my neck.

Because inside I am a wreck.

That recognizes the love that tries so dearly to keep him in check.

To embrace and reassure.

To be a home or a hearth. 

A singular place of comfort and warmth.

She is the storm that slid into my own.

And now together, for the next eons we share this throne.