With you, it’s more awkward being apart then close.
When there’s distance between us there is nothing
more to think about then how to end up in your arms.
Wondering if that is where you want me to be, hoping
and wishing it is– it’s the most secure for me.
With you, talk is not cheap; Conversations
stay noteworthy, thought-provoking,
always something new to voice, tell
to one another– a love to share.
We’re on the same page, yet in totally
separate books–the genre of non-fiction.
With you, I’m trying to figure out what is wrong
with me, why I’m afraid to tell you I like you.
I’m never this way, usually always easy to say,
but with you, I’m afraid of your denial. I fear
I have lost all chances– keeping my voice quiet.
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