Once upon a time you brought me peanut butter M&Ms

For anyone interested in mapping out my heart a bit, this one is connected to this other poem.

Once upon a time you brought me peanut butter M&Ms

Was it love, was it longing, was it hope?

Shaking with emotion as my heart tried to cope

with the realizations I was making about you.

Then in ensuing months as it threatened to come back

And I wanted to accept the thoughts with grace

I let myself feel the feelings

tried not to judge

because I thought maybe I should learn from them before they can budge.

Mixed up with those few times you asked

and I refused.

Wondering if those chances should have been used

if I was pushing not to choose

and if I should not have let us lose

what ended up being the only...

The only chance to make more of those talks on the bench-seat

(on the bench, green stripe

helping me to see the light)

DENIED.

But denied by myself or denied by an else.

So as I let the feelings flow

to observe them and not quite let go

the way I talked to you I thought would show

And so I sat in suspense.

And then nothing.

No indication of a smile, or even a glimpse of deja vu

Nothing to reaffirm the personality I was assigning to you.

To a past you

Who admired me,

inspired me

a special feeling I've been missing

why to those thoughts I've been trying to listen.

FLATTENED.

Opened so much and tapped into the past.

Past me who could talk about these things

Expecting that certain ring...

And I felt it,

Oh, it is so.

But nothing reflecting to show

to let me know

if any of the light I gave caused a glow.

Making too much of a feeling of mine

but then looping back to once upon a time

when you brought me peanut butter M&Ms.

Smitten

I believe that, sometimes, it's cathartic to think back and to feel emotions long gone, feelings about parts of your story that are long closed. Our past selves are part of our present self. It's helpful for me to be in tune with myself in this way. Maybe these poetic musings of mine will be cathartic to someone else out there, too.

I was so incredibly

undeniably

smitten with you.

I knew, somewhere in me, the types did not--would not

That I would be forever flustered by your attention

or lack thereof.

 I wondered:

If I was more alluring, more enticing,

less needy

less available

If I would have been viable to you.

Because it wasn't that you weren't ready.

It was that you knew a lack of steady

would be you -- smitten with me.

What changed?

What difference?

Why now a reaction?

"Nothing,"

his response.

Just my persistence

but not even a fraction

of himself did he trust to remain. To give.

To allow to see me and live

in the idea of us.

You could pretend, but were also honest

And I, honest with you and myself said

I was so incredibly

undeniably

smitten with you

That just pretend

I could not do.