I can’t promise
I’ll ever get used to you.
When I first walk into a room and you’re there
It hits me hard.
I’m always worried other people will notice.
It’s like someone hit pause on my whole being for a second
And then released me and I’m scrambling to catch up.
I recover quickly, but those first few moments...
I blink in confusion, a little dazzled,
As if by sudden daylight.
And honestly I feel silly for it-
You’d think, after everything we’ve shared
I’d have been able to master that by now
But instead
Every time is like that first time.
Every time, I stumble over my words a bit
And find it hard to look you in the eyes.
Every time, I am a little unraveled by you
And I see your confusion sometimes
And your relief when that moment passes and I am your friend again.
I must seem so strange to you.
Sometimes I worry that you think I don’t trust you
Or that I don’t like you
Or that I’m afraid of you.
But really it’s just that
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you
As a person
As a part of my life and my world.
I think maybe I’ll always walk in the room and have to catch my breath
When you’re there
Because you’re there.

I guess I just have to hope
It’s a strangeness you can live with.