I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now. I wanted to say it as you reached for your wine that night after we disconnected-- both afraid of ourselves and the trajectory of our feelings for each other. I wanted to say it as the moonlight shone in on you as you slept in your bed after the first time we slept there; when I felt your heart racing against my chest... But mostly I wanted to say it the last night I saw you as you held me in your arms, looking up at your precious face, knowingly looking down at me; you still inside me; quiet, motionless, but so inside me.
I wanted so badly to tell you that. The words each time graced my lips like an imposter only to fall away like some great lizard that was taken out to sea to rein its fury on the dark ocean alone unbeknownst to any herein. I
pray that you can hear them for what they are; feel them for what they are, and not mar them with the knowledge that they stand apart from your ability to reciprocate them. Please take them into your heart with your eyes closed and
your soul open for just a moment; my voice speaking them softly in your ear with a kiss.
When you smile; when your head lightly moves to dance; when your tongue finds my lips; when you ramble over a glass of whiskey; and when you sit naked after we’ve made love; when you act boldly; when you laugh; when you
squeeze my hand; when you call my name in a gruff whisper; when your heart races on my chest in a close embrace; when you love me.
What I’m sad about is selfish. I’m sad about timing. I am only a woman and as a woman, I miss you. I miss you terribly. I miss your kiss. I miss your smirk. Oh, how I miss your smirk. But most of all, I miss the moment
that hasn’t happened yet. The moment when you let yourself fall for me.
What makes it hard for me is knowing how much you care for me; how much, in a way, you do love me. How much you would enjoy smiling wryly as you hurled yourself backwards off the cliff and said “Catch me, baby.” If I didn’t know that I could make you a villain; me a victim and sooth myself. But I can’t because it isn’t the truth—the truth we both know. The truth is: not today.
I know that you would never fly a million miles just to see me smile at you. Some day maybe; but not today.
So I guess I better disappear. I know you’ll be okay and soon I will be too. And maybe, just maybe, if Goddess so desires, a day will come when , as friends, we will find ourselves accidentally strolling along the white cliffs of
Dover, or the mountain rocks of Medicino, or the bonnie emerald north of the Scottish seaboard or the glistening harbor of old New York, or on a path in Michigan. And from the heights in the stars amongst the angels whose arms will cradle us, in a moment neither of us was told about but knew like our oldest happiness, we will look into each others’ eyes, and know it is today; it is today.
And whether that day is tomorrow or next week or next year or next lifetime, I will finally get to tell you to your sweet face, the face that I will miss more than I could ever tell that, I love you. I love you. Oh baby, I love you.
And you’ll smile wryly, close your eyes, and say “catch me, baby” and fall.
I wanted so badly to tell you that. The words each time graced my lips like an imposter only to fall away like some great lizard that was taken out to sea to rein its fury on the dark ocean alone unbeknownst to any herein. I
pray that you can hear them for what they are; feel them for what they are, and not mar them with the knowledge that they stand apart from your ability to reciprocate them. Please take them into your heart with your eyes closed and
your soul open for just a moment; my voice speaking them softly in your ear with a kiss.
When you smile; when your head lightly moves to dance; when your tongue finds my lips; when you ramble over a glass of whiskey; and when you sit naked after we’ve made love; when you act boldly; when you laugh; when you
squeeze my hand; when you call my name in a gruff whisper; when your heart races on my chest in a close embrace; when you love me.
What I’m sad about is selfish. I’m sad about timing. I am only a woman and as a woman, I miss you. I miss you terribly. I miss your kiss. I miss your smirk. Oh, how I miss your smirk. But most of all, I miss the moment
that hasn’t happened yet. The moment when you let yourself fall for me.
What makes it hard for me is knowing how much you care for me; how much, in a way, you do love me. How much you would enjoy smiling wryly as you hurled yourself backwards off the cliff and said “Catch me, baby.” If I didn’t know that I could make you a villain; me a victim and sooth myself. But I can’t because it isn’t the truth—the truth we both know. The truth is: not today.
I know that you would never fly a million miles just to see me smile at you. Some day maybe; but not today.
So I guess I better disappear. I know you’ll be okay and soon I will be too. And maybe, just maybe, if Goddess so desires, a day will come when , as friends, we will find ourselves accidentally strolling along the white cliffs of
Dover, or the mountain rocks of Medicino, or the bonnie emerald north of the Scottish seaboard or the glistening harbor of old New York, or on a path in Michigan. And from the heights in the stars amongst the angels whose arms will cradle us, in a moment neither of us was told about but knew like our oldest happiness, we will look into each others’ eyes, and know it is today; it is today.
And whether that day is tomorrow or next week or next year or next lifetime, I will finally get to tell you to your sweet face, the face that I will miss more than I could ever tell that, I love you. I love you. Oh baby, I love you.
And you’ll smile wryly, close your eyes, and say “catch me, baby” and fall.
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