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What I wanted to say to you last night but couldn't figure out how.

You want to be right, that love is dead.
If this is so, then I am going.
I am not a plain white box,
a take out coffin for your fears,
for you to keep until some night
when you need to look inside.
To feel passion and be safe may
never quite work out, but that is life.

Life is letting yourself live.

My life needs fields and reverie
in which to dream, open air and choirs singing
filling up my head with muse.

But keep me here by wrist or neck,
tell me just to wait awhile.
With some shame I'll be outside,
wishing this was what I'd hoped,
searching for a foothold
against your last wall at the dead end.
Your monument to abandonment,
do you keep it standing
out of history or habit?

If you're waiting for a promise,
I cannot stay. I cannot offend
love that way, I don't see how you can't see,
It's always bigger than we can hold or know.
Control and love are the two
cousins raised in different worlds;
They cannot understand each other.

If you think my effort is my love,
my proof, scrambling inside this box,
against these walls, if you need
to always see me needing,
I cannot stay.

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I like the idea of the take out box coffin, it's quite lovely :).

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