I’d like to hear more about how I annoy you.
I have shared myself, and over-shared myself
delighting in using you as my muse.
And wonder if it sometimes feels like
I am abusing you with these words?
…the sweet words that fly from my keyboard,
the shocking ones that squeeze out of my thumbs,
the rapid fire questions that make you stand still,
or the deeply sincere ones that don’t come out at all.
THOSE words sit quiet with me in my stillest moments,
rest their head gently on each knee when I meditate,
block my ears for me from the cacophony
of my own unbearable thoughts.
Those UNsaid words make no apology.
They are clearer than shame.
They remind me that I know the difference
between being healthy and reading a book about illness.
Those words know the story of what is in my heart:
They offer: “Come, let me kiss your forehead,”
And then ask: “Who else needs one too?”
And promise: “There are plenty. We will always have enough.”