I feel as though I’ve hurt you
and I’m sorry.
Though I’m not sure what
I should do differently
because I don’t know what to want.
A certain degree of ambiguity
lingers on the periphery
of my love for you,
haunting my happiness;
an unsettling specter.
Knees touch as we sit on
cool pavement, only
serving to remind me of
kisses and caresses withheld.
Like that secret, delicate
underbelly reserved only
for yourself, guarded by a
quiet, fearful conscience
so that tender wounds may heal.
But what you neglect to
realize is that your sturdy
bandage may be suffocating you,
preventing you from healing
when all those injuries need…
…is air.