I was alone
and have no worry or fear
that I could hurt you
or be the cause of your tears.

Disappoint you with my reality,
frighten you with proximity,
or worst of all,
admit to us both,
the extent of my
vulnerability.

But now that I am undone,
with tears paused
and grief for a moment gone,
I can sit on the bed
rocking slowly
and take my words from hiding,
cleaning off the dust that
has gathered there,
and let them light up this room.

I am in love with you.
And with each passing moment,
each new thing learned,
this love becomes larger
as does my awareness
that I have no idea what it means.
There are some moments,
when I doubt,
I am even capable of such a thing.

It's like -
walking into a room that is filled
with a vast amount of air
so rich in oxygen,
yet sometimes so full of despair.

I was supposed
to be smarter than this,
and wait at the gate
for convenience and timing's sake.
Not wander off
after beautiful birds
past the gate and over the lawn
into the garden and up the oak tree
where I found their nest,
and became undone.
All my carefully built walls
came tumbling down
and I was not prepared for this.

When I raced from the garden,
up to your room,
to share with you my discovery,
I found you only half dressed.
Not ready for anything,
let alone a common bird's nest.

You were not ready for me
to be anywhere but waiting at the gate,
for your convenience and timing's sake.

and do you know?
It wasn't until I returned to my room,
and sat on the bed,
rocking back and forth
and holding my head,
that I began to cry
and in crying was finally free
to realize that I loved you,
and you were

unavailable

to love me.

Now that I am undone,
I can speak as if
I were alone.
And what I say to myself
is a promise and a gift,
to never again
try to stand so still,
that it is as if
I have ceased
to exist.