I risk in my staying, and in my going. I risk in choosing to love, and in choosing to be sensible. I risk in unveiling my deepest desires, and in my pretending that I do not have any. Which risk is better to take, and which will hurt less? Why do I feel safe in your arms yet you disarm me, love, you alarm me?
I am filled with love, when I choose to give to you. I am filled with joy, when I choose to share with you. You may or you may not, and regardless of your choices, I am still brimmed when my choices come from the best part of me, from the heart of me.
I cannot deny that you occupy me, but do not ask me how, do not ask me why.
It is not a game of manipulation nor one of power, for neither of us gains when there is a loss.
Your giving has a magical hold on me, but it will not keep me, it will not keep me for long. I stand with one foot out the door, baby, out that door. Every time it gets too real, I am ready to bolt, but you pull me in, you pull me near. The strings between us come undone, and I toss every layer of protection with every step I take closer to you, away from the door. Why do you get close when I have so much to lose? Why? Still, I choose love, I desire you.
All that I adore in you is merely a mirror for me to see more of myself. And all that leaves you in awe is just you, darling, it is your own boon, it is true. I save your (my) smiles in pockets, in deep places. I keep them for rainy days, for all my rainy days.
If you’re whole, how do I complete you? If I’m whole, why do I need you? Will you confess what you feel, desire, need, or choose? Will you keep me or watch my undoing? In my state of disarray, I ask you to lead me. Will you ask me to stay?
And sometimes, I sit outside the door on the cold steps, often looking over my shoulder for your thereness in my hereness. The more distance I feel between us, the heavier my heart feels, the more my throat aches from swallowing back tears. I wait so I can gather enough strength to go on without you, just in case, baby, just in case.
I recharge in my stillness, in my quietness. You read the silence differently, but what can I say when words start to lose meaning? What can I do when this starts to lose essence?
They say what foolishness there is in waiting because it should be easier than this. And I wonder, would I not be a fool to walk away from the best, the best part of me? They say what pain there is in giving so much, but I wonder, would I not be lonely to close myself off, to separate? It would be interesting to see where this narrow path takes us, I think as I walk back to your door. I knock ever so softly, surely rousing you from your sleep.
Wake up, darling. Won’t you open your heart to my love?
Beautiful!
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