Only now am I beginning to taste the flavor of the pie that sat on the windowsill of my mind.
Two months, roughly 6 or 7 phone calls ago, a progressively more frequent series of texts, and some mid-day daydreams and every day since I’ve discovered.
I love you.
It was the abrupt switch to knowing, mid-sentence wrapping up one of our calls. Barely catching myself to stop the drip of excess spillover from the “Lovebomb” going off in my brain,
Two things stopped me.
Maturity: My new sense of responsibility around my words.
Fear of rejection: My cautious heart preserving my time with the knowledge before the sway of your thoughts. You knowing would change something, I wanted to be sure what.
I have trusted these feelings with only some versions of even myself.
Would we be a family? Did you want more kids? Questions my mind would come home with after playing with the idea of loving you.
The mind will beg you to play with something and punish you for doing so at the same time.
During the enduring battle of my life, I’ve learned which techniques will be used and with which demon. So it is no secret that I keep wondering, where are the windows I had left open?
The one that let Love find its way in and led me right towards it. I saw the natural way I began to trust myself inside your world.
I love the way you see me in your world.
To love you is to be absolutely absolved of everything I formally knew about love.
To be objective. Pure of wayward notions to please you. So that I can walk far from the path of the women that once loved you too.
I must let you chase me.
I must let you form your every word bend to fit my ear without my lips whistling to you first.
The good of your conquest is in my lap and on my heart a map.
It is better that you feel for my warmth.
I have never loved someone where the best thing for them was me.
