whatladybird:

The first time I say I love you, your face
crumbles. You look at me
the way man stares in terror 
at the stars and the sea.

You grasp your head, fist
your hair, hiss, whisper why me
why me I am weak I am
dirt I am dust I am
nothing—

Why you? Because
the earth is made of dust
and dirt and you are as
essential to me as earth
is to sky; you give me something
to set my sun against.

The dirt and the dust are not
weak. I could build a house
out of you; you are the roof
when I rain.