by Janice Wood

You have stirred passions in me that I try to keep a lid on.


Who cannot stand heights-

Would jump off of a cliff

(If I were to survive unharmed)

for you if it would impress and win you over to me.

I would soar above the

Heavens (with God’s grace) and

Land perfectly on one foot

In a graceful pose just to

Impress you-if I could.

But I fall apart in your presence

my willingness becomes a mono-word-yes-no-okay

My grace moves away from me

And in moves clumsiness

Yes, I become as a

twelve year old child in the presence of the one who

 really stirs my passion.

I cannot be the carefree easy go lucky idiot that every one simply adores.

One who has no worries of whether

Others are impressed with my grace my wit,

 my charm because I know I have accomplished just that.

But you do not see this part of me.

 My heroism stumbles into recession.

 My mind gropes to bring this forward.

My self holds it back.

My heart prays that you will be patient and

get to know me anyway.

You cannot love what you do not see. And you don’t love what you do see.

Have I just told you that I love you?




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