Young Again

No, I’m not here to bother you,

But I won’t fold for anything less—

Not less than your youth, electric and bold,

Not less than the language your body speaks,

Each motion loud, serene, and whole.


You cast coolness like shadows on warm stone,

Strength radiates in waves, undeniable.

I don’t care if it’s an illusion,

If the foundation is real or imagined—

I’ll take the mirage if it holds fire.


I won’t settle for less than a man who burns,

Hot with talent and the pull of mystery,

A lover of untamed moments,

Who grips tight when the world feels slippery.


No less than someone whose story

Is inked in bravery and lived scars,

Whose soul hums with red vulnerability,

Childish hesitation threading through

A spoiled, perfect chaos.


I don’t care if the world frowns at us;

I’ll pour the wine, baby,

Let it spill if it must.

I never served a man,

But I could serve you—

Because for you, I’ll burn


But I’m not here to bother you,

Stay where you will—

In your orbit, untouchable,

A restless storm with no anchor.


You don’t need to be mine,

I won’t clip your wings or trap your light.

Because you could never be

An expensive painting on a museum wall,

Silent, still, admired but lifeless—

No, you’re the flash of graffiti on a train,

The pulse of color rushing past

Before anyone can claim it.


You’re the hum of a city at midnight,

Alive with whispers and chaos,

Unfolding mysteries with every turn.

You belong to no one but the air around you,

And perhaps that’s what makes you so rare.


I don’t want to frame you,

Don’t want to tame you—

Only to stand in the presence

Of your fleeting, burning art,

To let it scorch my skin

And echo in my veins.


Stay where you will,

Untamed and undefined.

I’ll burn just the same—

For you, for the thought of you,

Even if I’m only chasing

Your shadow in the dark.

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