I still love you; still need you every day
just to breath, to rise and be alive.
But you must not expect me to
ramble on about the world outside
or the pain inside; I am not wired that
way.
Take comfort in my silence and my nearness to you,
it’s all I can do with what is left within.
You need validation, and I can give you that
I just can’t give you insight; I have none.
“It’s a man thing!” you cry, but I
am as far from that as you are from my words.
It’s a sad thing, and I would wish it not so,
but it’s the one thing I don’t possess.
If you must embrace more than my face
then, please, take the time to read what I
write. It will inform you, though probably not
warm you. For that, fall into my spent arms.
They will always be there for you.
“You don’t love me, you don’t love me,” daily
goes the triad. I comb your hair and caress
your skin near the fire, and for hours my eyes
lock upon yours. We simply spell differently,
see?
I will live my life upon one knee, if in doing so
you could understand. What I know about love
I’ve gathered from your touch, your voice, your
grace.
I can only give you everything. Please don’t ask
for more.