I keep looking back

every couple of steps.

In hope

that I'll turn and see you there.

But I can't stay put forever,

staring down the way

and break every time there's nothing.

I'm walking the line,

because my love deserves more.

I think there will always be a space held,
just for you.

An open door with the lights on,
waiting with tender heart.

My loose ended red string,
the open book that was never closed,
never finished.

I will always
have a piece of me,
waiting.

I can't run from the fire
that is you.

I can only throw myself
to the flames
and
burn in it.

And if there's anything I'm guilty of
Then it was the fact that I always wear my heart on my sleeve.

In hopes you might catch a glimpse of it
and run the fabric between your fingers
before you leave.

I'm always going to be a little too much
and you,
too little, too late.

This is my pattern,
my wounding,
my fate.

I feel you fade and even though I shouldn't,

I wait.

I am bursting at the seams
From all of my expansion
Spilling over the edge.
No one can hold me,
and I can't contain it.
I am always too much.
So much that somehow
I am never enough.