I wish to write to you,
But right now, I can’t say who.
You are more the life I choose,
Than the life I chose.
Though even still my heart it slows.
To allow life to shape me,
I allowed it to break me.
I thought it was mandatory,
So I sat, &I kept inventory.
Of the cuts &bruises…
&all of my excuses.
Until I found you.
And I fell.
I realize now, I actually flew.
Into a land – such déjà vu.
The land in which I was adrift.
In hand I held the pieces;
Sewing together my only gift.
Though I say; “I am but a passenger,
But I pray thee, do not shoot the messenger.”
With a heavy heart I do apologize,
For these words I cannot summarize.
I loved you more than the summer sun,
More than the winter’s frost.
I thought for sure that I was lost,
For I surely did try to run.
But my love of you was overdue,
My heart now overturned.
I met you then I never knew,
That it was to prepare for you.
I’d been burned many times before,
I was beaten by my self esteem.
Called a harlot, a slut; a whore.
Yet each time, I ran back for more.
You helped me find my worth,
Picked me up, up off the floor.
You showed me a love of ages,
One that radiates from your core.