Such a large chasm
between loving you and creating a deserved home
is the fear of the next step? Or of the first?
I simply know
the notion of you leaving now
tears cardiac tissues like Kleenex
like nothing I've felt in this forgone era
But wiser men before me
said plainly, 'Don't win her heart if you're not gonna relinquish yours'
To which i reply, 'It's already given. Now she needs to unearth it'
Under age and soil and the ghosts of loose morals
there's a root feeding every vital branch
encompassing every patriarchal hardship
Pleading with myself
but patiently standing at post
pining for her purview to proactively purchase
a shovel to reveal painted colors
an acrylic landscape of what life offers