A stanza of quandaries

I feel you falling out.

Moving away from me.

I know you think you’re subtle so I let you believe it.

But I know.

I know you and you wish I didn’t.

 

My taste for you keeps me here.

What keeps you here?

What do you crave?

How can I persuade you I’m worth holding again?

A stanza of quandaries.

 

Oh, those quandaries. How you despise me for questioning.

My insecure, curious, inquisitive spirit.

You forgot loving, caring, accepting, creative.

But not trusting.

How could I trust you after I hurt you?

 

Remember how close you held me that first night?

First forbidden, anxious, soft, gentle night.

5am. I forced myself to leave in the hazy, still of morning.

I told you I have never felt so loved and safe.

Will you ever hold me like that again?

 

I read your poetry.

I read your books.

I read your hands, your eyes, your transfixing smile.

I left you. I came back to you. I hurt you. You came back.

You hurt me. I love you.

 

I feel you falling out.

I grasp at the hope you want me here.

My breath is trapped in this despondent desire

As I beg you to love me.

I know you and you wish I didn’t.

 

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