Love

It’s like, I want to hold your hand while we walk to my class.

It’s like trusting you to be there after.

It’s like getting used to you being there, waiting for me.

When did I outsource my anchor in you?

Was I ever not scared of being alone?

It’s like,if you love me enough to stay, I’ll see you.

Because you wouldn’t be anywhere besides where you wanted to be.

It’s like, let’s hold hands for a little while.

It’s like, I want to feel safe in you.

Anchors are the awakened ones, but they have feet.

They go about their lives and catch the fallen.

Love is inclusive and unconditional.

Do you need a hand to hold?

Because I can’t get enough of the stuff.

And my marriage bed has a starfish pattern from sleeping alone,

but it’s okay because designating one other person as my love

while one eye constantly scans the horizon for

fear of missing out, and then punishing myself for it,

has never been good.

I want to hold your hand, until it doesn’t feel right anymore.

One hour.

A month.

Two weeks.

Twelve years.

I don’t ever want to be alone, except momentarily,

but I don’t have it all figured out.

Are you a person who anchors me?

Are you drifting this direction as well?

We can drift together, and when you see your turn off,

make the decision. Is it important to leave?

Would you rather stay?

My path seems rather narrow, and

I don’t expect it to make sense. But if you want

to drift with me, I’d love your company

while we figure out this life thing.

Our time here seems short, seems long.

Please keep good company.

 

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