PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I have tried to be a gentlman,

I do not steal kisses,

I do not assume that such an advance is wanted.



Instead, I smile,

And I ask a lady if she would like a kiss.

If so, I caress her cheek,

Meet her lips,

And savor the moment.



Being anything less,

Is not in my nature.



Some women like to be swept off their feet,

But does my asking,

Reveal insecurity or chivalry?



I open a car door,

I walk her to the gate,

Watch her get in her car and drive away,

Before I turn home.



I blow kiss's good-bye,

I write books not letters.

I disclose my heart

And love with my arms wide open.



There is no,

I hate you,

Don't leave me.

There is no

Keeping one at a distance,

No lying and no games.



Yet, I've always been met with everything...

Less than honesty,

Less than consideration,

Less than compassion,

And played games with,

Like my heart wasn't only a pawn,

But the punchline of a joke.



When I saw her,

"Can I ask you a question?"

She said,

"Why do you ask if you can ask?"

Perhaps, my politeness is redundant.

Sometimes, in my eagerness to know someone,

I can step into areas that are not pleasant.

I've been around too many people where conversations

Seemed to have land mines.



When she looked at me,

I got so taken aback,

"Ask me anything, I'm an open book."

Disclosure...

No secrets...

No games...

No jokes...



She is like a mockingbird that insists on singing,

Even after being swung at and injured with a baseball bat.

Her heart cannot stop loving.

Compassion oozes from her,

And like me, her heart seems too big for this world,

In all practicality.



People see us coming,

With our hearts on our sleeves.

Either they steal it from us

Like a purse-napper on the street,

Or they grab it and try and blugeon us with it.



"I am an open book."

How does one keep on loving,

When parents can be demons,

The Bible becomes a weapon,

When people would rather believe the worst about you,

Than to accept the true nature of your heart?



Does she see something in me?

Did she find something more in my arms,

Than just an embrace?

In some wierd sense,

For me it was like coming home.



I saw the adult,

I saw the child,

I saw brokeness and strength.

I saw bewilderment, confusion,

Conviction and determination.



"I am an open book."

Who says this anymore?

Who opens themselves up like that,

And not fear reprisal from the world.



It lets me know,

She doesn't claim to have all her ducks in a row,

And she isn't afraid of revealing the skeletons in her closet.

Perhaps,

Like me,

Those skeletons were not all my fault.

Not that blame has to be given to anyone,

Just that often times things happen.

The fly doesn't choose to fly into a web.



She isn't afraid to show her hurts,

To reveal her scars...

They just are for the moment,

And there is no reason to feel shame.



Today is a new day,

And the Lord has made something new.

Yesterdays defeats and joys

Are not todays.



She has tact,

And sugar coats nothing.

However,

She will tell you exactly what she thinks.



She is driven,

She knows what she wants,

And will accept nothing less than perfection.

Literally.



Maybe in her eyes,

The only perfect relationship,

Is one that has to be founded

With perfect thought,

With perfect wisdom,

With perfect disclosure,

With perfect compassion.



"I am an open book."

What courage to love in a hostile world.

It's almost as if she believes,

That the world starts out inherently good.

That evil and bigotry is learned,

NOT INATE.



I think,

I hope I can be what she needs,

I hope I can be what she wants,

I hope I can be that person I was long ago...

When I thought and believed just like this.

Before the worlds evil tarnished my dispositon.



Hopefully,

With her,

I too,

Can be...



AN OPEN BOOK