Yea, I placed you on the top of my refrigerator. My shelves are full. I wanted to keep you safe from grabbing hands and pesky kids. Are you rotten, already? It’s only been a few years. I’m gonna call orchards and hang up upon them answering the call. I’m breaking out of my cage right now because the coast is clear! I’m home alone and I do better knowing that you know I want you here.
Is it abundantly clear yet Monique, Mary, and Niki? Can I call your cells and leave cute messages? Huh? Will I get hanged for dreaming of our paths crossing yet again? Tell me I’m safe for God’s sake. Show me how puckering up is done. Make eye contact, hold my hand and encourage me to breathe through the heart palpitations, ER visits and my awestruck, cowardly shyness. Please. If I knew things were mutually felt, I’d get on one knee in one second. You’d see!
I’d be practicing my belly flops into bed, running laps around my house, doing pushups that would break my spine again. I’d be lightyears ahead of where I am now. Know that! Know that I’m dying to have one line of open communication between us. Know that I feel discouraged to treat y’all like queens because “norms” and i don’t feel supported being the best man I can be.
I’d stop waking up without my heart racing, I’d be able to express myself without fearing a firing line and I’d be able to sleep through the night without running from scarecrows.
I hope you can digest my rambles and understand dwelling is also referred to as recycling once initiated, once caged heartfelt ambitions in my life. Okk? Open that locked door by reaching out to me. Try texting me calmly.
