the way your eyes flit
to taste his name,
flash even
to see his face… I sigh
a deep sigh, the way I should hope you sigh
were I to call one sexy…
it made you uncomfortable that I should ask for it
but on him you’ll spend words priced too high to
afford for two
“Promise me…”
your words said “…that we will never argue again”
But more articulately was
“…that we’ll pretend to always be happy”
but what was asked:
Promise me you will bury pain and not tell me.
Promise me i will not know i hurt you.
Promise me to remember that no matter how much i care for you (and i do care for you)
that you can’t make me feel bad for caring more about myself.
Promise that when i want to do something, you’ll never not want me to, because you’ll promise nothing hurts you, because you promised that even if it does
i will not know.
Because i just don’t want to argue.
Let’s do this until we explode.
———————
…of course i love you… enough to lay down my armor and show you my wounds… not to make you feel bad, but so that someday we can both be absolutely tender in each others presence. So that we can feel deep trust, deep love, deep pride and confidence in each other..
The current problem is that you still refuse to take your armor down at all, so you wonder why i would.. it scares me.. as if we still both stay ready to leave and fight another fight… we are like two warriors lovers who have spent their whole life moving from fight to fight, but in a ditch at midnight they meet.. and no one wondered why we wear such thick armor, but as time goes, and the relationship grows.. one wonders why they feel such inclination to prove they are strong.. why when we’re together do you wear the same warriors armor? We both know sometimes we hurt.. but we’ve been trained, that for the sake of maintaining a good relationship with somebody, we just need to take the heat, stomach the blows and say nothing… we both are proficient at this.. but what makes you so awkward is how desperately i want to take off my armor.. to tell you how i hurt, not even just so we can medicate it, God is the absolute best doctor, but so that i can be real with you… and what i need more that strength, is honesty…
I will never promise to play happy. Because in everything i AM abundantly happy, just being around you, gosh i just can’t get enough.. it is when my honesty and vulnerability get rejected, it doesn’t just hurt me, but i leaves me wondering when.. like the two warriors, at some point one must wonder why they still wear the armor… it’s not that i don’t understand the inclination.. but it seems to me that love would within itself prompt the removal of the armor…
It is not the arguing that worries me, but your inability to even find cause to tell me when I’ve hurt you… and you expect me to so the same thing.. so that we can both silently carry or “pray away” the pain… its a disservice to bury it dear… i can’t convince you though .. so tonight i’ll bury it…
My love and me
unlike wildflowers at midday with halos on a hillside
while still of no particular color
or adorned with any or all the colors of flowers there could be
we are unlike smiling wildflowers one sights mid-drive
though to see us together still may sparkle one’s eye
and open a door for the rest of one’s day
to enter happy thoughts of wildflowers lit at midday
my love and I are unlike wildflowers
even though wildflowers and we sometime both share
wild uncanny spaces one does not expect to see
wildflowers all blooming in heaps of sunlight
or wildflowers expounding the idea that the earth
sometimes bares some unprecedented rewards
which comes in such multiplicity
and sometimes strange weeds
and sometimes roses and sometimes sunflowers and tulips, my love and I
are not here for the season
and gone the next
Don’t let it out
Don’t let me in
It is to share land
But build a separate house
In poetic language I hear us often speak
banter upon banter of what we could not
convey with little human words
so stanzas pass with very little said.
We let little words spray the page
…little words to trace the way
to my saying she is diamonds
each a hundred thousand cut
casing her incandescent
soul. To see her, my word, is to see her
turning perfect light
into multicolor skies. I
…I want this light
I want these skies
for the rest of my life.
Lo, who is speaking with words again?
I am but pointing at, unbelievable, divine things
recalling how words betray me like
when I said she shines bright
but meant just to be painting ebullient rainbows
that fill up canvas nights with technicolored auroras; pouring out of her self…
when I said she was beautiful
but meant just
look at her.
Lay back down my ugly craning
clown neck
And try to deserve the sun again
Did you know you were alone
when we all told you not
When I’m alone
I find I relate best to myself.
What you knew is that I was not.
However it comes out:
I slowly know I am not enough…
It’s not about me. It’s not about me. Its not about you. Its not about me.
Overthink the little things, who cares, let me ponder away small portions of my brain, sure, but.
When i ask you of love… the time it takes, the thoughts you must think
.. they are the widest red lines between what it is and what it is not. I’d say that is what it truly is to overthink..
On this side of heaven, of knowledge, of understanding, we know
that love is a choice. Or at least, we best understand it as such. A commitment. Because without those, when we do actually begin to discover what love is, we would run from it. Its sad to only have one word for it, for i liken it to a race: it is a start line, it is the ability to run, and it is the goal set ahead… and it is the commitment to do all of those things…
it’s funny when I first found this song.
the season was so different than it is now.. such of love and early mornings…
it’s strange to feel it now.. the lyrics are present, but the feel is.. where it was. almost enough to frustrate me, but, mostly just infinitely strange..
“oh my darling
this is getting harder
the world is growing smaller
everyday
oh my darling your memory slowly fading
i know i keep complaining but
i’m not as strong as i was…”
-noah gundersen. San antonio fading.
I feel exactly this song. As if thats important these days. What i feel? What you feel? Who cares really. Just feelings. Always passing, never staying. Never resting or settling in.. I’m so incredibly frustrated. A deep irritant under my skin .. can’t scratch it out, cant itch enough at it … don’t you have a voice? Don’t you want any particular way? “Well fine, either way, either way is fine with me” well, have you nothing to fight for?
Have you now nothing to want… no..no i suppose not.
nathanael.ink 