love or something like it

I want you to notice me—
not the way people do in passing,
with a smile,
a nod,
my name spoken lightly
as you move on.

I mean really notice me.

Because when you see me now
you only see the version of me
that trips over his own words.

In my head they arrive polished—
clever, effortless, cool.

But somewhere between thought
and tongue
they collapse.

And there I am—
desperate,
dorky,
mushy and undefined.

Strange, really.

In every other part of my life
I am solid.

Only with you
do I dissolve.

But there will be a day
when you pause long enough
to see past the surface.

You’ll read my words someday—
all my clumsy poems,
my awkward stories about love—
and you’ll wonder
how long it was all there
before you noticed.

In those pages
you’ll finally see
what lives beneath the boorish surface—
the quiet depth
I never knew how to show.

Because one day
I will let someone in.

I will give someone
the whole of me.

Not the quiet fragments
I scatter anonymously
among strangers
and passersby.

You.

And when that day comes
you will be everything
I thought you were—
and more.

Because by then
I will have learned
what I should have known
all along:

When I give everything,
I receive everything.

You’ll love the man I am becoming—
the one who is freer,
open, curious, alive.

You’ll love me
because I will love me.

And when the old version of me
returns now and then—
out of habit,
out of memory—

you’ll smile
and accept him too.

Because you will trust
my strength,
my weakness,
my awareness,

and our love.

And when you are at your worst,
I will be at peace.

Because I will trust
your strength,
your weakness,
your awareness,

and our love.

My day is coming.

What is lost
can still be found.