You are much more diamond than dirt
by You Have My Word
I pick you up like a diamond, like all I’ve been doing is digging and here you are. Small. The kind of size I can comfortably fit my arms and dreams around. Glistening. Those eyes that absorb more than their fair share of colour and light. But life isn’t fair and you were cut for more.
If I said, “You’re a diamond in the rough,” you’d probably give me a slap. I might like it but that’s cliché, lazy writing and you deserve better than that. So here goes: You are a whole fucking mine and my face is covered in dirt.
Like Maya, I’m convinced you have diamonds at the meeting of your thighs… and beneath your tongue… and in that smile, those lips. The sentence is possibly less poetic but the sentiment still exists.
I don’t know much about diamonds because my experience is mostly in dirt, but I do know a good thing when I see it. You are a good thing. You are good – not made less by the places you’ve been. A diamond’s value lies simply in what it is – who you are. You are diamond.
Precious. Picked up. Protected. Preserved. Just right, but not perfect. Perfect would be untruthful and far too unattainable for this pile of dirt.
It would be my pleasure, my dear, treasure, to hold you in my hand or cradle you until the right hands have you. Hopefully mine. But I have all time, and us, to see where you land up.
A pendant perhaps, bringing only good luck. A deeply set ring of “I do” – I do want to traverse this dirt road with you.
My diamond. Sharp and rough, uncut and not giving a fuck. That’s my favourite thing about you.