Not Yet. {Poem}

Today’s chapter is on its last page and it’s my page to write, so I write it to you.

I’ve stopped searching for you in everyone else.

You’re not here. Not yet.

I’ve stopped burning for you, because,

I know it doesn’t bring you any closer.  

It’s not time. Not yet.

You are correcting things,

and building things,

and still learning what you want and don’t want.

You love her and you’re trying, just like I am.

But—when we’re washing out our morning coffee mugs,

or brushing our teeth,

or we feast our eyes on a familiar face,

we both share the hollow ache of intuition —

it’s not right, but it’s not time for it to be right.

Not yet.

I stopped waiting for you sometime during the upheaval and never sat back down.

I’m anticipating your presence instead of mourning your absence.

I keep loving without you to love, because,

it’s what you would want me to do.

If I’m loving, it means I’m trying until you become my result.

I pictured you today, while I was swimming.

You were beside me.

You drown your bravado when I’m there.

When we swim together, we make love—

our bodies coasting in unison,

coating each other in our breath;

my favorite intercourse.

You’d be proud:

I finally let go of that life,

the one from before, that made this one possible.

I’m building something now, just like you,

and when we come together,

you can walk in to me and I can walk in to you.

There will be nothing left to do but sit in awe of who we are,

and nestle into our soul:

the one we built together, apart.

These days, I’m spending most hours in solitude.

Still connecting, still loving, from afar.

It feels better this way.

I feel better this way.

The loneliness has faded.

There’s still a mild lingering, but it’s faint.

It’s there as a reminder,

not to atrophy in this aloneness, because, if I do,

I may shut you out without realizing it’s you and that would be the end.

So, the door is cracked and sometimes it gets too cold,

but the temperature always rises and I’m comfortable once again.

I hope you can feel me.

I hope you can hear me: my gentle dreams of you.

I hope they reach you in the moments when you almost let the cold force you inside forever.

I hope they wrap you in the warm knowing—

I’m here, and in time, I’ll keep you warm for good…



One thought on “Not Yet. {Poem}

  1. This is my favorite poem you have written. It speaks to me….deeply. When I read this “I’m anticipating your presence instead of mourning your absence.” I instantly stopped aching for “him”. It was a dull form of torture. But now with that simple sentence it is replaced with calming desire for the unknown “him”.
    Then this:
    “If I’m loving, it means I’m trying until you become my result.” With my new found anticipation I can beautifully and rawly become……

    Thank you for this piece. Glad all is so well for you.

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