Why is it so hard to love you?
It’s not that I don’t want to,
Or even that you don’t deserve it.
I just get stuck between the unknown and the desired.
You could be the greatest, the sweetest,
But you aren’t the song I’ve gotten used to singing.

You expected a girl,
your own notion of femininity.
You expected me to laugh, to talk,
but only in bubbles,
Wonka’s fizzy lifting drink.
You expected to float
on my wiles
I’d heft you up while you cruise.
Well, you get nothing.
You lose.
Good day, sir.

Compliments were like mace;
asides that I never took well.
Never mind awkward first dates,
they were like living in hell.

I’m lucky I found gentle men
who took steps quietly,
that put up with my self-disdain.
and just as equally,
suffered in the rain.

But soon, they grew predictably helpless
and decided to abruptly end things.
Surrendering an on-going protest
they knew they would never win.

I’m sorry I brought my selfish war
into our cozy love stuff.
That I never cherished our affair
and tried to call your bluff,
as you firmly said farewell.

But if truth be told, and I’m being brutally honest…
I think I finally figured out the part that was the hardest
that I should be kind to myself regardless.

I greet you like a new shore with a wave that says hi and bye together.

Somewhere in between, I entertained the idea that we might have met on a train in Seattle once. We sat sideways on the edge of a deep conversation, staring out the window as the rain did the talking.

My mantra is an old Samurai teaching: defeat who you were yesterday. I told myself that I'll have something to say to you by tomorrow.

I write stuff down for inner peace. The pen is my sword.

I got it. When the pandemic is over, let's order clam chowder in lidded to-go cups and meet at the edge of a pier where ships leave. After a while, the sight of departure takes on a charm of its own.

I can talk to you more freely on higher ground, like a rooftop. Or a train platform overlooking uptown Chicago. It will feel like we've risen above the noise.

I make a pretty good penpal. I also have anime hair. And an enviable Samurai sword collection.

Do abs still count?

My brain is in great shape. Don't mind if the thoughts floating out of it are going over your head. It's better than going over heels. That would be hopelessly romantic.

Dating apps remind me of a formula in astronomy that says the odds of intelligent life beyond Earth are a statistical impossibility. Still, you can't help but look up on dark nights asking if you're alone.

I want to say I met a girl who I began writing about, the kind that doesn't just smile at you to be polite. Consider this an invitation to write back.

You'll get my name then,
-Annonymously Yours

Is love definite and true?
My anxious mind interrogates my heart for answers,
asking for evidence of feelings for you.

How do I know when to take it to the next stage?
My heart reads no definite chapter of certainty,
offers little advice of when it is right to turn the page.

How can I possibly know if you are the one?
I do not share your confidence,
I am willing to go the distance but I don't know if I can run.

Why does this always seem so easy to everyone but me?
Love at first sight does not seem possible,
I guess this is what it is like to be dating with anxiety.

I love him
He loves me
But how do I know that it’s meant to be?
He cares for me more than any
I need a sign if he’s the one
There are so many

I’ve never been treated like this before
He calls me “Princess” when he opens the door
He gives me gifts, makes my bed
Tucks me in and kisses my forehead
He holds my hand, hugs me tight
Makes me laugh and cuddles me all night

But he gets sad sometimes when he thinks about my past
Things that I can’t change, and it worries me if we will last
He fears losing me in the upcoming years
Unable to tell the future almost brings him to tears

One minute he’s on top of the world, filled with joy
That I’ve decided to date him, out of every boy
But a few seconds later he gets upset
Thinking of everyone else I’ve ever met

I know his love for me is down to the core
But is it too much?
I feel like I should love him more
He’s my best friend, there's no doubt in my mind
But part of me wonders, who’d be next in line

(Internet dating in the COVID lockdown)

Floating again in cyberspace,
hopping from cloud to cloud
hoping and hoping to face
her placed but not embraced

Head spinning, not acid spaced
nor aced in love misplaced,
smiles at angel eyes and face,
Silver *****, is it  legally laced?  

Left wondering when she might drop around
to unpack the cosmos or something profound,
or not profound, a quirky man, not unsound
but tossed on the life affirming shore of hope,
hope we might, in the line of mortal time elope.                          
                  ----------- O ----------
copyright 2020 Paul J. V

I wanted to say, “yes”
I wanted us to have drinks
I wanted to feel warm and safe
To feel your strong embrace

Maybe if I’d had a drink
Maybe if you had a few
We would’ve both made enough mistakes
Let down our guards
And something could’ve happened

You must’ve known I wanted to kiss you
I wanted you to hold me
Maybe we should’ve had drinks...
Maybe then....

But instead
We were respectful
We were smart
With our guards up high
Yet somehow still drawing closer
But not ready to truly be close

Not yet