Stormy PoeticJustice

I want to tell people

that I loved you

the first time I saw you,

(because it makes a better story)

but it’s not true.

It took me          nineteen          whole days          to see you,

and even then          I didn’t plan to.

And now          here I am,

eyes fully open,

while you hold your cards close to your chest…

or so you’d like to have me believe…

but you have no poker face          my dear

and your cards are clearly reflected

in your eyes          and your smile

like they were mirrors.

And even as I search your face

for signs that I am projecting          

my hope          onto your heart,

I find that I am right.

You          are light.

And I am bathing in the shadows you cast

gratefully

as you protect your heart          from injury

since you faint          at the sight          of your own blood.

So I carry thread          in my back pocket

just in case I am called upon

to stitch up a wound –

whether yours          or mine.

And I dare you to love me.

But you want to have sense enough

to learn          from your past          mistakes

(so as not to repeat them)

but skepticism     descends

surreptitiously

into cynicism when you are not looking –

or at least when you are pretending not to.

So I dare you to love me.

And don’t tell me that you can’t.

Don’t tell me that          you are waiting

for some magical sign,

or the passage of time

because          all          that we have          is today!

And          one of these days

you are going to put aside your fear,

stop saying          ‘one of these days’

and dare          to love          me.