the drawer

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“its a logistical thing,” he explains.
“it just makes sense for you to have one,” he reasons.
offering a drawer
in a man’s place
is a huge thing.. at least to women. [i think]
so i ask, “but what does this really mean?”
what im really asking is, don’t let my heart & mind wander off to some hopeful cliff to later plummet off of.

“its progress.” he says, as he pulls me in close to kiss my forehead.

grey

i wish
i could be the kind of girl
just along for the ride.
revel in the silence
& await the big reveal.
& if he bows out
before it ever gets to that point in this romantic comedy?
it’s fine.
rewrite the script
cast a new leading man.
you still have a movie.

i wish i could be that girl.
more than any other self deprecating thoughts i have–
this one ranks the highest.

but because i can’t
because i’ve tried
and failed
again & again
at trying to be her,
can’t we just have a go at me being this one?

& not consider each time i push for answers
to be two steps backward into the abyss of unknowns?
that grey area
where you can’t tell where the horizon is,
the foreground from the background,
or anything in between
is what got me here
in the first place.

this is me
in the middle of a room
with a hundred different paint swatches of grey
laid out around me
holding each one up to the light
to see if it matches the walls.

“is it more of a ‘classic french grey’? … no? how bout an ‘earl grey’? or ‘gauntlet grey’?

i think i got it–

“agreeable grey”

missing people easily isn’t natural for him
& now that i think about it,
it isn’t for me too.

i’ve had boyfriends go on
long family vacations
even deployments
& they’d have to pull the words out of me
“don’t you miss me yet?” they’d ask.
i’d say it because..
you’re supposed to say it.
but it was usually such a relief to have them away
it told me i could be fine without
which i thought was just because i’m reasonable
independent
just slightly emotionally detached.

but with you,
i’m afraid
i may be at the mercy of my feelings
i’m terrified
i may fall apart when you leave.
& the ache will be a throbbing never ending feeling
that can’t be satiated with texts
& quick layover visits
& facetime
& alexa drop-ins

& you’ll think to yourself,
this girl just feels too much
& assume that this is my M.O when people leave me,

but it’s as if my heart just reserved all this,
just for you.

chicken or egg?

love thrives where love is rooted in commitment

what came first,
commitment? or trust?

how do i commit to something
that may or may not be real?

how do you trust someone
who you’re not sure can commit to you?

we’re both standing at the airplane door
shivering in anticipation
parachutes neatly folded in our packs
yelling to be heard above the roar of the engine,
urging the other:
“jump first! im right behind you!”

am i the fool for leaping first?

actions speak louder

im told talk is cheap,
& maybe im asking way too many questions
filling up the space with them
suffocating you with them.

if i just sit quietly
& feel you brushing my hair back from my forehead for the thousandth time today
& realize im the only girl in this room
the girl you’ve chosen to share this sacred space with
i’d have my answers.

so eyes,
dont give it away.
dont let them tumble out
& ruin the moment.
because there’s only so much room here,
& i dont want to fill that space with tough questions.
id much rather fill it with you
resting peacefully next to me.