GUTS II
Sometimes, 'waiting it out' doesn't take longer than four days.
The other night, before I left Japan, he arrived on my front porch drunk at 1 a.m., wrapped up in scarves and jackets like a Christmas gift. I peeled them off layer by layer to put into my closet. Then I put him on my couch and sat with him and it took something out of me to stop myself after he forgot himself. It took something that I didn't have to pull away and get up from the couch and crawl into my own bed, and put my head under the covers and try to breathe correctly (as if I'd never properly learned how to do it before).
It took guts to do that. To stop snuggling. To stop him from kissing me. To say, "I'm waiting for you, for you." And believing that it's not all up to the love I can steal away for a night -- but proving that I can be, that I will be, someone he can trust on the other side.
And then I won't have to steal anything. He'll be mine.
The other night, before I left Japan, he arrived on my front porch drunk at 1 a.m., wrapped up in scarves and jackets like a Christmas gift. I peeled them off layer by layer to put into my closet. Then I put him on my couch and sat with him and it took something out of me to stop myself after he forgot himself. It took something that I didn't have to pull away and get up from the couch and crawl into my own bed, and put my head under the covers and try to breathe correctly (as if I'd never properly learned how to do it before).
It took guts to do that. To stop snuggling. To stop him from kissing me. To say, "I'm waiting for you, for you." And believing that it's not all up to the love I can steal away for a night -- but proving that I can be, that I will be, someone he can trust on the other side.
And then I won't have to steal anything. He'll be mine.