I need for you to tell me
my love is beautiful.
I need for you to make me
feel that you acknowledge
how great it can be,
how great it can make me
if you allow this love
to run its course.
I need for you to ask me
to be patient with you.
And when you tell me
it’s not yet time I need you
to tell me you want it
to happen, that I’m not
the only one. I need you
to reassure me that nothing
stands in your way,
the way that leads to me,
that it’s only a matter
of time. I need you
to help me find a place
for this beauty to exist
and agree that it
deserves to. I need you
to make me want to hold on,
do you understand?
And not because I don’t,
but because I do
want to hold on tight,
but I only can if I
could get some sort of proof
that you want me to. So
tell me that you love me
loving you, at the very least
tell me it makes you feel good
tell me it feels right,
having me in your life.
Tell me it matters to you
that I stay and wait a little,
that you would meet me
halfway somewhere, some
time, in an intermediate
dimension between wisdom
and fidelity. The gaping door
that leads away from here
is too heavy and
I was hoping you could
help me close it. I need you
to remind me it’s the nobler
thing to stay in love
than to fear it. I need you
to put your hand right there,
in the middle of that fire,
deliberately and without fear
as a gesture of understanding.
I need you to step up to me
close enough to figure out
what I am too busy looking
at you trying to see you
to spell out for you:
that I did not need any help
when I fell in love with you,
but I would fall on my knees
for every prayer,
every kind word,
every token of gentleness that
you can spare me in my
current state of helplessness,
for every piece of this
passionate burden
you could offer to carry
by my side now that the
tables have turned and all
of my strength derives itself
from any suggestion that
you could be weak for me.

But I won’t ask you.

untitled photo from the image bookmarking site, WeHeartIt