Nice to meee, Nice to know you.

I have wanted, am still wanting, to do many things for him. Reminders of me, proof. But I've waited, and time appears to be late and I'm just walking, thinking how I've missed chances missing him, walking slower than my thought, getting no where I haven't been, hadn't imagined I'd see. In person, I learn all it takes to be me, to be for me. And between living and telling, I learn when I am so many arm lengths away, screened, lettered, I am not the extent of myself, I am other than who I intimately live behind. I act in step, in the silence, of that I oppose. Maybe I want nothing, but the wanting. That can't be it. Not this time, not lately. Is it the wanted I want? When the unspoken isn't said, still, I hold myself back. Because I don't believe. (It takes how little we are being). I believe. (I have what it takes).

*

In my ears, I am listening for the first time to what was given to me. I may only be hopeful, or had I? had I missed you? I am at fault, I read others the way I want to be read. I look for their message in the word. Maybe our meaning isn't there. Does it have to be? I've been avoiding this. My ex-boyfriend (I still hate this term, believing, knowing we are better than its implication; there is no need for reducing, we went on to become more, this was my hope) has shown himself similarly in another. And what have I learned? To go again. So many men met, many inside, in such short time and have I really wanted nothing other than to wake with this other one of resembling qualities? I am afraid of this likening. Knowing the possibilities, potential of becoming everything, feeling we have it all, or sobering up to discover I know nothing of I, having become wronged in feeling again.