Do you know that I will lay my strength beside you and surrender? Forgive me, but it’s who I am, weakened into broken submission when I feel you close. When you are as the ocean, you are my iconic metaphor with clarity—the kind that floats by unnoticed, hides in corners, or drops to the floor.
Do you know that I have it in me to wonder if it can be brave enough for you? I’m right around the corner of your confidence, wide awake with hunger, but I need you to hold me to show me. Hold me now, I ask you, because I can’t hold myself in this way. Make all of my toes touch the floor at the same time.
Do you remember
that I miss you? I wonder what you feel, when you believe it’s not possible to be with the me you know me to be. Am I an illusion that floats above your head while waking, that which you cannot comprehend, even to yourself? And still, I carry holes of you within me.
Do you know that my smile was always for you? It was hidden at the bottom of me. I was looking down, and within, really listening. I heard you there, when you saw my smile. I feel you know that.
Do you believe that I am typing these words just for you? I wonder if I should be there now while you read this. You are wondering why I’m not. I should have been. I made eyes with you across the room while you did though, and I lightly bit my finger in shyness as I watched you come towards me.
Do you know that I dreamed I was wrapped in you last night? You deserve an explanation for waking without me; it was a dream. It doesn’t seem fair to wait much longer, to wake to a pillow instead—where no one can see your face when you cry, to count the seconds to another day gone by before you should be.
Do you ever think of my shadows or yours when you brush against me? My tears seep through and tell you to stay with me in your presence that breathes even when it doesn’t try.
Do you remember our silent moments that connected us despite our lack of patience? I am working my way toward you. You are expression of desire met beyond imagination, by your side. You are delight at being enough to be wanted. You know what to say, even when no one else is listening. You are the experience of my teardrop. You are a gift.
Do you believe that your eyes melted me each time then and still do? Don’t give up on me. I am not going anywhere. I know that you are that which rises and you know me to be the one who senses you now, a reprise. And I heard you last night when you spoke to me with your dream, intense and beautiful. You spoke of a ride you foresee with ups and downs, receiving and holding. And now it is so close that I can taste it.
Submitted to Rebelle Society 9.20.14
© r.e.l. 9/20/14