sometimes, i wish we could just get away - just you and me and the pounding of waves against sand. in the day to day hustle of love, i sometimes forget to look in your eyes long enough to remind you of the butterflies and how they still rush and beat wings on ribs.
instead, i run and plan and cower from your touch. you see through my busy-ness - you know my quiet brooding stems from somewhere deep and altogether separate from you. you pull me home.
what are you thinking about, you say.
i shrug and look out the window. i respond with a non-committtal grunt and something about my mind not really focusing on much. you don't buy it.
you just seem somewhere else...
and i know i am. i feel it, too. but where are the words? i nod and agree and grab for your hand. if anything, i can be present with this.
and now, twelve hours later and processing fully folded under, i know. the quiet came from somewhere deep, yes. the words were not there to voice because the overwhelming nature would have escaped unheard.
the bottom line, the thought that grabs me and pulls me under is simple but suffocating: at the end of the day, i fear i don't love you well. even more, i know you can't argue against this because i know the lies i've believed. and i know we're relearning and i know we're laughing in the face of pain because we know this cannot be quenched, but i wonder if you ever question my silence.
yet you stay. and oh - this is mind boggling for someone who fears abandonment.
because honestly? even though i turn away and even though most days i feel like gomer, my love for you is strong and steady and flows deeper than any haunting memory. i'm still figuring out how to show you this. i'm still finding ways to pull the words when i need them most. and for the life of me i'm trying to rest long enough to show you the love behind the fear.