Is this the anxiety male counterparts typically feel,
A coming of age that aches with pangs of hope and fear?
Of possible humiliation
And unrequited feelings;
Laid bare,
Like guitar strings never plucked?
I am lost,
In knowing what I want,
What I’m willing to do and be,
But I’m stepping into shoes that feel too big for me,
Sized 17 to be exact,
Sized for you,
And it fit so perfectly,
Until
I undid us,
Untied it all,
Left us dangling
In my insanity
And now
Now I’ve grown,
I’ve learned,
We’ve grown,
We’ve learned,
And now I want,
I want,
Gluttonous I want nothing but this
And more of this
Of us,
Because I cannot imagine a day
A night,
A moment
That you’re
not,
Nor a moment
That you’re not in
my life,
I would go to the ends of the Earth,
If it meant you might have a moment of peace,
I would bear unspeakable pain
If it meant you could share my greatest gift,
I would go without love,
If I could not have yours,
For you are something
I was undeserving of,
That I was too naïve and fragile to be entrusted with,
And yet you trusted me still.
I am foolish to expect second chances,
Or perhaps fate was never meant to be questioned by a fool,
And opportunity and courage are devised to set things right,
I have never loved as I love this one,
This man that I know, and who knows me,
For whom I am suddenly speechless;
Breathless,
Wanting nothing
but
Every ounce of his being to want and need my own,
And For promises of wizened lovers
Of “until death do us part,”
And even then…
She of Letters 