For Charlie, who can REALLY write poetry. . .
Why do I do this to us?
You have made it clear that you will deny me nothing.
I told you I am ready to come home,
and you said “Welcome.”
I asked for what I thought I needed,
and you handed it over with no judgment whatsoever.
I fell in love with you
and you loved me back.
Now sometimes I hide my eyes
and run in the opposite direction.
I wear myself out with longing,
and gasp with exhaustion, bent over, screaming inside,
and you just wait.
For many, you are a problem.
For me, you never complain (I have no idea why this is).
And still I run.
Well, after all, it is a tall order to give up completely,
Yet that is what I choose.
I am yours,
and you have made it clear that you are mine.
The deal has been sealed.
Here I am in the house you gave me,
Alone in the most perfect way,
And still coming home,
The daffodils are already blooming,
Those damned dogs never shut up,
and the sky is blue.
What is there to complain of?
Oh, I’ll think of something.
And you keep waiting.