Thank you for clearing away the deadwood in my soul;
Thank you for your tough love and your lessons,
painful as they sometimes are;
Surviving them makes me stronger,
and strong, I believe, is what you want me to be,
strong enough to survive any tragedy,
any catastrophe,
any hurt,
any trauma,
any grief.
I try not to let these torments kill the gentler parts of my soul,
and I dream often of your smile,
though I have only ever seen it in my mind.
Your bright eyes, the smell of ice and smoke,
the gleeful fire of your hair,
your deft and tricksy hands.
These words may be a love letter you do not want;
if so, I apologize, but
after all the dreams in which
you danced through my sleep,
I cannot help but feel a closeness.
Others tell me not to trust you,
that all affection on your part
is feigned, false, a trick, a lie.
I do not have enough sense to know whether I should listen to them;
I only know I want what I feel of you to be true.
If my affections are unwanted,
I expect you will show me this sooner or later
–probably sooner–
in a way that cannot be mistaken for anything but a warning.
But until then,
I will continue to dance with you in my dreams,
enjoying the scent of you,
listening to your heartbeat,
holding your hand.
December 9, 2018 at 12:03 pm
Reblogged this on All Their Voices.