An Open Conversation with Love and Fear

Perhaps its the way that you hold my wounds in your hands without muttering a word.

As you stare at them

 blank expression with questioning eyes

I wonder about the complexity of my last statement.

Without asking me to change, your silence screams TO ME that I’m still broken in areas that I’ve overlooked.

You make me uncomfortable.

As I look at you, the masterpiece of a man made strong by his past I squint to find the impenetrable parts of your heart.

Searching for the ground you left uncovered so that I can know that I’m not the only one still hurting.

Perhaps its my insecurity that wishes you away

Like the story of a man running from God trapped in the belly of a whale to contemplate his actions

I sit in the timeout of my heart

Wondering like words on a page why you’re still here

looking at me

With a mouth as tight as the cage of your heart

I question if I remind you of her

WOMAN

Not she of your past but the one you dreamed to one day be wed forever

She who you can trust  with the areas that you’re

too afraid to look into

Like stammering knees

know stammering needs

I tremble to say that the pieces of my heart spread like a jigsaw puzzle under your gaze stagnate me in ways I don’t like to admit.

I thought I was free

 to love

 to care

to live

but when you’ve been caged for so long even freedom feels like imprisonment to red birds

As I gather the pieces of my heart off of the stained sheets

I ask if you really know the depth of my care

I wonder if I’ve dropped your heart too many times while carrying mine in the backpack of my past

Can you hear past the

fear filled words to listen to the beat of my heart?

It beats because of you

The emotion that I feel within our tense conversations let me know that I am not dead

That I am not immune

That I’m still alive.

I haven’t felt this way in years, but I must admit that feeling hurts.

 

 

 

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