you’re forcing my hand and it’s beginning to make my heart start to ache.
you’re forcing my hand and it’s beginning to make my heart start to ache.
I don’t want to be
your responsibility.
I don’t need saving.
your solemn patience matches mine; we are two sides of the selfsame coin.
constantly one step ahead as well as behind– autumn’s leaves falling as new buds burst forth. your quiet, stalwart function, a sensitive, keenly logical beacon well-thought-out and practical– constantly teaching temperance though not without responsiveness and honesty. clear and direct, cutting, brutal and endlessly open.
sometimes your words bring a harsh sting of which i know you are unaware.
you are my careful muse hanging two steps back assessing the situation– given time and patience– a little water and sunshine your petals are beginning to unfold, i see their brilliant color– and feel their explosive, opening energy. you are my gentle muse behind your calm, quiet eyes, the hint of a grin and …
from the beginning your vulnerability is what drew me in.
sleeping by your side solid rhythm of your breath rouses between dreams
my sweet love you know i pine for you like no other– long to feel your touch– as a gentle wind or the warmth of the sun. the easy, eyes-closed satisfaction that is perfectly familiar yet feels new and entirely consuming upon each experience. i no longer acknowledge the difference between laughter and tears– …
i have choices that i am just beginning to fully acknowledge.
the edges of myself 