Я хорошо and, now, unashamed

A new love. I would never have guessed.    
It feels not sinful, but cruelly blessed.    
   
A new recipient for the aches I scrawl    
and aim like paper planes -    
basketballs,    
   
sloppy sunsets and waterfalls    
into their respective,    
clumsy landings.    
   
I only hope there are nerves    
in the heart that I'm handing    
over -    
   
because I gave myself before -    
like the day to the earth! -    
I have upturned my mind, and poured    
my best,    
my core-sourced,    
French-pressed songs; my words.    
Surely I should hurt.    
   
For now, I brew more -    
and learn his new lips' language.    
No use in aching    
for an ache which    
has always hidden its putative face.