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.