All the Way to You


I wrote this over a few days in the middle of June 2014 about/for someone I’ve loved and lost, and found and loved again.  To this day, I’m still trying to understand what loving is.

Thank you for listening.



I want to go all the way to You.
It doesn’t matter how far You are or how rough the road is.
I want to travel – on foot, on gravel –
because from back at the beginning up until this fork in time,

I have been wandering
from daze to daze,
to nights from days spent sitting in the darkness,
waiting for the light,
rehearsing my rights,
creating my name,
singing the lines without knowing my song
walking a rhyme with two left feet on the right side of the street
to this point, where You and I collide
It’s all I can do not to stumble, but hi:

I don’t know who I am or where I’m going;
I hardly even fit in my own personal space so I promise I won’t be a bother;
I wish I really, really knew my father.
He might be the reason I don’t know how to love You – but I do know how to learn
and in the meantime, I have every other verb downpat. That’s a fact.
More on that:

One: I have mastered The Art of Running Away because I Want to Be Chased.
Two: Before You, I was running from first base to home plate
without the balls it takes to play the game in the first place.
Three: Let me be the first to say:
I’m only so scared of falling because I’m the one who’s slippery.
Four: I find solace in solitude, so it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that You and I are so alone together.

We are always at a crossroads.
You are all ways
so I must be, as always,
going in the wrong direction
That explains why I’m not coming so

Five: if you just so happen to be
on your way away from me, then:
It’s about time you left, right?
I am sick to my stomach from falling so hard and so fast and so much and so far and so only into you.

is a mighty fine, prime brine pickle we’ve found one another in the jar of.
No wonder the lid’s come off.

Seven: As careful as we’ve claimed we are, we’ve left the doors to our souls ajar.
You broke in to my Broken just so you could change the locks on me…

Eight: If I ever put “love” between “I” and “You”, then I must be sure, right?

Nine: What is this list?! It’s a miracle I ever make any sense at all.
I must be the Aquarian daughter of my Capricorn father.
I possess all the qualities of a goat with a gourd underwater…

Ten: I don’t think it’s possible that I’m head-over-heels. That’s right-side-up, and I’ve officially capsized into Your net.
You have made me get my life all wet…and I think I like it.
(à la Wednesday Addams in “Pulled”I think I like it!

So maybe, this time, the question marks circling my head are just shy exclamations:
too anxious to stand fully erect,
but not hopeless. Not yet.
Maybe, this time: the tines on the forks point to somewhere worth going,
or point to someone worth knowing, in time…
All I have to do is pick a path and maybe this time, I’ll win.

Eleven: I don’t want  to go it alone. Maybe this time, I need a hand to hold.
Will You walk with me? I hope You will – because, if You remember correctly:
I want to go all the way to You.



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