This love, just is

I cannot make myself

appear safe to others.

I cannot guarantee

that my deepest sorrow

overwhelms me.

I may not be kept

by dark fears from within.

You cannot trust me

based upon my pain.

It only bleeds,

a set of needs

to be cared for.

With me,

topics come and go

without real completion.

For I am not the whimsy

towards appreciation

for the story others tell.

I do not use this circumstance

in a passive manner

to insure an emotional exchange.

It is almost a pretend

to be an enrolled audience

entertained with passive interest.

I do not like to feel

like a pawn

in a promotion of denial.

I am defined

as affrontive and invasive

and even abusive.

I am irked

that the process could continue

without real face to face

that is real heart to heart.

Sure relationship

has backside fantasy

from time to time.

There is subterfuge

and no one lays any claim.

There are ploys

and I am not comfortable .

Double standards

that I can do nothing

to change,

are persuasions

for main characters

everywhere in life.

Life seems to have

these kinds of lessons

along the road

to unconditional love.

For without expectation

nor claim,

this love,

just is . . .