secrets

is it possible to love the distance
that separates you from what you love?
i was thinking today
(as i rummaged through the bathroom cabinets)
about the conversation we had
in dunkin donuts that time
(when we stayed for hours, the first
time we really talked) and how you
said to love someone
you would have to be prepared
to die for them.
(i am embarrassed to say)
that, knees on the blue tiles,
i thought
if (when) if? you say i love you
to me
it will mean so much
more
(than those whisper
text wisps
elementary in nature
middle in thought)
can i even imagine it all?
(by this time i was rubbing
the floor with a
sponge)
the physicality?
the words?
recently
i have felt like i am slipping
like your interest is something
i need to earn
to be loved
(could you love
would you love
me
?
(would i love
you?))
to be in love.
as if it is a place on a map
that you can pinpoint
with a blistered
finger
that you could stand on
palpably
and state
i am here