well, actually, she's gonna say it,
because when i start talking about emotions
people like to pretend they don't feel,
i like to pretend that i'm someone else,
that she who is quite frankly,
j e a l o u s
of the love
i swear everysinglesolitaryotherpersonalive
i mean, her.
maybe i'm just being punished
too impatient too ready too easy to fall
too ready to be joined with another soul
too desirous of the love that is not shamed,
the love you can put on your facebook page,
the love you can tell everyone about
because it ain't goin' nowhere.
i guess i, i mean she,
i guess she just wants it too bad for her own good.
but i can't blame her
for wanting to love a man
who isn't afraid
in loving her back
and maybe posing for a picture every now and then...
and watching the sunrise every other day...
and holding hands in public...
love behind closed doors isn't enough
sex isn't enough
a text as sporadic as an afterthought
just simply isn't enough--
is it too much
(really, is it too much?)
maybe if she tells the universe
that she's longing
maybe the universe will send its reward:
a man not shamed by articulate words in long letters,
the man not shamed of being the subject, topic, and focus
of erratic poetry,