She touches my chest,
yet we express nothing.
sick over it
That feeling you get when you witness someone walking down the aisle, when you get to be happy for someone else, for a split second you’re not wrapped up in your own life and are able to experience the bliss of the union of two, acknowledging each other’s spirit, when you are present for the tears of joy, and promise..
I want that for you.
I want to hold your hand. Not because I can’t. Because the elements of magnets are meant to join.
Someone asked me if the loss was greater knowing you can’t be with someone because they’re involved already? Or if the loss was greater to cut ties altogether? ..That’s how you’ll know.
Then conflict arises in the surface mind.
If something shifted and “my way” or “God’s will” were to manifest this beauty, would that be worst case scenario? Would the pain be so great with the constant knowing of how a foundation began?
I’ve never been the other woman. Probably also because it feels weird to call myself a woman. But, fundamentally I’ve never been someone’s side dish. I’m not leftovers. And that’s not coming from my ego. That’s those close to me claiming my true worth in times I may not see it.
My vision of romance may be skewed? Feelings are definitely not facts, but energy doesn’t lie. Am I a bad person because I can’t reel it in? I’m human; seeking spirit. To connect.
When matched, there’s balance.
You feel like a conversation. Engaging..
An exchange of body language and words, communicating most when little is said, and revealing one’s secrets when you speak openly.
I’m not in charge here. But I know I’m not alone.
So when you dance that slow dance and allow your heart to flow open, I hope you’re deeply complimented.
I’ll be over here thinking about your smile, those red lips, and the way I feel when you look at me.
I’m not in a rush, but I feel one when we’re near.