You are too precious for words sometimes

that I don’t know how to write about you

How you have always been special

and I refused to see it–

a constant low humming at the back of my mind

I’ve gotten used to for years

But was afraid to give it a name, to carve out

a space for you in my heart

Nobody would understand–

It would be the secret that exploded

but that only added fuel to the fire

quietly raging within

And you did it yourself–

You carved out your name in my heart

with impossible deeds and a love so familiar

It’s impossible to push you back to the safe corners

and pretend you were just a footnote in my saga

You are the spark that lit my history book into flames,

pushing me to write the best story of my life

——–

*I pride myself on my inner knowing–how I trust in it fully and how it has moved me upwards, how it flows easily into me and how I wield it more than others do. But there are times when I am stumped. Days like now, I don’t know what to think and my trust on my very intuition falters. I DON’T KNOW. I don’t know what to do about this. But one thing I still know for sure: You are precious and will always be. Even despite all doubts that this can’t be happening, all thoughts that this isn’t mutual, and all efforts to not make it more than what it is…you are still stubbornly precious. That is true. And another truth: I wrote this poem for you.