My love is too…

Yesterday as I sat on my bed watching Disney movies and grading papers, the man who would not be forgotten called me via FaceTime. In a moment I thought about my bare face, my threadbare tank top, my glasses and my hair in a ponytail–I wasn’t ready at all to be seen! I answered. 

In the time since the call I’ve fallen back into my old familiar habit of wanting him. Frustration over our current situations and my unsuccessful trials of faith and patience. I constantly ask myself if I’m crazy or if it’s one-sided. I always come to the conclusion “no” and allow myself to continue dancing in the daydream of him. 

I’d stopped reaching out and he noticed. Asking jokingly if I’d fallen out of Love with him. It wasn’t out of want. It was because I thought he wouldn’t notice. Wouldn’t mind my quietly slipping away. Or, if we are being honest, maybe it was because I find myself unable to speak half truths to him. I say too much all the time. I get naked honest. It’s almost as if I can’t help myself. He never minds. In fact, it is his preference. Even when he doesn’t agree with me. 

My love is too loud. My love is too Saturday Night. My love is too bold. My love is too full of bass. My love is too intimate. My love is too god damned good–to be thrown back in my face. My favorite part of For Colored Girls… Because my love is too good. It explains a lot about my current situations. My hesitance  to commit. It’s not because I’m overwhelmed with fear, it is because it is not the time. But through my companionship with him I know it is possible. 

So I sent him the words I’d written about him. I sent him my address and told him I prefer flowers over any other gift. I’ve told him my feelings for him and I make no secret of their depth. I will let him know when my thoughts go to him. I will reach out when I crave his comfort. As long as it feels right. 


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