A "cutie" love engulfed story found by my Yahoo 360 friend, Keke &
she said this, "I found this piece out there somewhere in cyberland ........
I just liked it and wanted to share it with you!"
I have put in a litle effort rephrased it in poetic gesture
and I'm sharing it here with you, enjoy ....
They lie across the bed,
side by side facing each other,
their bodies only a breath apart one another.
They both carry secrets in their eyes,
and have hidden in visible scars,
they have both grown old into a place,
where they're tired of having too little,
and being afraid of giving too much.
"I'm not sure I know how to do this,"
he whispers tentatively,
as he brushes a few strands of hair,
from her face with his fingertips.
"Neither do I," she assures him.
All this is new to me and I'm scared.
Everyday I want to turn and run the other way.
"Me too," he whispers,
pulling his body closer to her own,
resting her face on his weathered skin,
feeling so tired of never showing up,
and loving only a little.
I don't want to be afraid of being loved,
or worse of being seen.
I'm too old for games and lies and holding back.
I'm too old not to take this risk,
not to stand here with nothing between us.
I'm too old to only give you parts of myself
instead of my whole self.
I'm too old to keep hiding,
to keep tucking pieces of myself away.
If I keep holding on to them I'll never fall apart
and if I don't fall apart I'll never find myself.
I choose you,
I choose you to push against,
to scream at,
to make love with,
to discover myself with,
and I want to be brave enough,
and to give you all my humanness.
I want to be brave enough to accept all of yours.
What if I can't sit in so much love?
What if I can't accept so much humanness?
What if I can't look you in the eyes
or let you look in mine?
What if I can't let myself be loved?
As he asks, his head bowed and his fingers laced,
between hers as if in prayer.
We could start with a few promises,
we could promise if we want to run,
we'll tell the other.
We could promise if it gets too much,
we'll say when we're ready for more.
We could promise to look each other in the face.
We could promise not to lie to ourselves any longer.
We could promise we're in this together.
He wants to make promises,
just as she wants to make promises.
He wants to know who he really is.
She wants to discover all her secrets.
He wants to fall in and never look back.
She wants to open her arms,
and take it all in.
He closes his eyes,
bites his lower lip,
falls into her body,
and whispers his answer in her ear.
She breathes in the scent of his skin,
kissing him lightly on his greying temple,
then lets herself slip into the dark corner,
at the heaving of his moving chest.
And that's what could have happened,
and that's what could have been,
if only one of them had rolled over,
if only one of them had given in,
if only one of them had found ,
the courage to clear their throats,
and stop staring at the wall.
she said this, "I found this piece out there somewhere in cyberland ........
I just liked it and wanted to share it with you!"
I have put in a litle effort rephrased it in poetic gesture
and I'm sharing it here with you, enjoy ....
They lie across the bed,
side by side facing each other,
their bodies only a breath apart one another.
They both carry secrets in their eyes,
and have hidden in visible scars,
they have both grown old into a place,
where they're tired of having too little,
and being afraid of giving too much.
"I'm not sure I know how to do this,"
he whispers tentatively,
as he brushes a few strands of hair,
from her face with his fingertips.
"Neither do I," she assures him.
All this is new to me and I'm scared.
Everyday I want to turn and run the other way.
"Me too," he whispers,
pulling his body closer to her own,
resting her face on his weathered skin,
feeling so tired of never showing up,
and loving only a little.
I don't want to be afraid of being loved,
or worse of being seen.
I'm too old for games and lies and holding back.
I'm too old not to take this risk,
not to stand here with nothing between us.
I'm too old to only give you parts of myself
instead of my whole self.
I'm too old to keep hiding,
to keep tucking pieces of myself away.
If I keep holding on to them I'll never fall apart
and if I don't fall apart I'll never find myself.
I choose you,
I choose you to push against,
to scream at,
to make love with,
to discover myself with,
and I want to be brave enough,
and to give you all my humanness.
I want to be brave enough to accept all of yours.
What if I can't sit in so much love?
What if I can't accept so much humanness?
What if I can't look you in the eyes
or let you look in mine?
What if I can't let myself be loved?
As he asks, his head bowed and his fingers laced,
between hers as if in prayer.
We could start with a few promises,
we could promise if we want to run,
we'll tell the other.
We could promise if it gets too much,
we'll say when we're ready for more.
We could promise to look each other in the face.
We could promise not to lie to ourselves any longer.
We could promise we're in this together.
He wants to make promises,
just as she wants to make promises.
He wants to know who he really is.
She wants to discover all her secrets.
He wants to fall in and never look back.
She wants to open her arms,
and take it all in.
He closes his eyes,
bites his lower lip,
falls into her body,
and whispers his answer in her ear.
She breathes in the scent of his skin,
kissing him lightly on his greying temple,
then lets herself slip into the dark corner,
at the heaving of his moving chest.
And that's what could have happened,
and that's what could have been,
if only one of them had rolled over,
if only one of them had given in,
if only one of them had found ,
the courage to clear their throats,
and stop staring at the wall.
