Awkward Pieces, Drawn Together
I haven’t written poetry since I met you.
That should have been a warning, I guess.
When my words stopped flowing,
rising only sluggishly to the surface
or needing to be forcibly fished
from the well of mind, instead.
It’s true the Earth moves when
we come together
(no pun intended)
but awkward, me, around you,
tiptoeing on eggshells,
trying my hardest not to scare you away.
It feels like I’d spill my heart to any one,
these days, all those things I could never say
to you, and you would never push me to.
Maybe I am settling,
maybe you are a dog like all the other men,
but if that’s true,
please let me remain ignorant
for even just a moment more.
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