Poetry

You leave, and I wish I were going with you;
To decorate your arm, to give you a hand to hold,
To smile and meet your friends, to talk and see your soul,
So you have someone to dance with.

You leave, and I'm glad I'm not going with you;
To perpetuate the rumors and wonder where I fit in,
To question how much you think you are losing,
So my desires are met.

We touch, and I long to caress you,
To feel you melt in my arms, to see you close your eyes,
And share a silent conversation of souls.

We touch, and I feel you pull back, hesitating.
Lost in a sea of confusion, wanting what we can't have,
By my choice, not yours.

I wait, and in waiting find both faith and hope,
That we can both become what we want to be.
Together, in a dream.
Apart, because our beliefs make it so.