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.