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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