I miss myself
Self-contained, free,
not longing to belong
with someone
who’ll never long
for me.

(But I’ll make it poetry.)

When I feel afraid of leaving
everything I know,
I know I’ll still have this, wherever I go:

the air against my skin
these songs
the lowering sun
my heart, beating faster,
my breath
blood coursing as I run,
and this:

I see beauty everywhere.

You say the right things
sometimes
but not what I want to hear
You hold me close, sing,
but I feel you slipping
and I fear
what I am doing to myself

Am I the drowning woman
who’d drag you under
with my uncertainty
or have I swum out here alone,
chosen this depth knowing I should, must, surface soon
yet each day swimming further
risking the bends
for you

I find myself wanting to say
‘I’d do anything for you’
but I wouldn’t

I want to tell you, sometimes, that I love you
but I don’t know if I do

Yet these are words I’ve said before
to others
when they weren't true

I don’t think I know what love is,
but one thing I’ve learned:
the words I thought I needed
can't compare
with the feeling of your hand resting lightly on the back of my head, my cheek against your shoulder