I know I'll have to be one-
so I push a little harder.
The door swings open,
and there you are,
naked and crying,
with a blanket over your head.
I keep teetering about
on the threshold,
step in, step out.
I shut the door,
and walk around.
I might be the one-
but I'm not ready for your sound.

I wake up every morning clutching my reserve
like you clutch your smartphone,
pleading with it in a whisper,
*"Please don't die on me."

I don't have a perfect family
that'll welcome you with open arms.
But I have someone like a sister,
and while she's like me in that we're flawed,
she will love you like a brother,
because she knows I love you as a lover.

I don't have a perfect body
that is sculpted and chiseled with athleticism.
But I have curves that will give you comfort
in the coldest nights and sorrow,
I can fit into you like a jigsaw puzzle,
you'll take apart and put together again.

I don't have a perfect salary,
free of loans and debts, and money promises.
But I have the ethic to work hard
to pay it off, and be able to go see
these incredible experiences you give to me.
They are so worth it.

I don't have the cleanest past,
free of toxic people and bad decisions.
But I have my present so pristine,
and I do everything to make sure
I'm on the right track for us,
for me.

I don't have complete understanding,
of how to handle our problems together.
But I have the passion to learn, grow and try.
I wont let our optimism die,
even though the instructions
might be complicated.

I don't have a complete grip on who I really am-
*but I do have the confirmation
that I am something really special.

Is fear always created?
Should it not exist entirely?

I'm beginning to realize the best way to go about this-
is not to worry if someone else betrays, cheats, trusts, loves or leaves you.
And just do as you please.
Just do what you believe.
The fear is so much bigger than what actually happens.
Pain is deep- but it goes away.
It flickers back in moments- when certain words are mentioned,
but its vocabulary depletes
as you make new memories.
Passion is beautiful.
Is it worth losing what makes you dream- smile and sing,
so you can encase yourself in protective film-
that plays backs the same memories of torment,
just to keep them from happening again?
The mind is not just a powerful thing-
it's fickle.
I'm not afraid to love you.
I'm certain there will be pain-
but ****, I have nine tattoos.

When I saw you,
I said, "I'll make him fall in love with me."
But I fell instead.
Weak- in your arms.
Today, you say you wish you could erase this.
The writing is too dark and dense.
There will always be outlines,
to the pits you never want to step into
again.
But I still want to remember them.
Because I fell instead.