I entered a poem into a contest today. It was interesting; I rarely write poetry, and when I do I guard it like a precious disease. But if I'm not open with my blog, then why would I bother to write in it?



Plea

Why must you press me?
Isn’t it enough to know that I won’t speak?
My thoughts are my thoughts,
my one belonging;
these utterances that dance within me
are the pillars of my certainty.
Do not push, my love:
be patient and wait and then,
only then, can you claim
that you know and love me.
Do not pull me.
Please, my passion, my dear,
do not demand.
My adoration will melt,
will soften and spread and grow thin,
dripping and fading away,
running from you
fluidly, promptly,
completely.
And like snow in the early spring
I will leave you dry and warm,
safe for a season,
but alone.