Things I Cannot Say

Saying the things she hasn't been able to say before.

I need you.
I need you to do what you need to do
Because I need all of you.
I want to love all of you.
All of your highs and lows.
All of your days and nights.
I love the promise of what could be.
I love you --
But I want to love all of you.
Not just a few moments here and there.
I want to love all the places she left bare.

What I cannot say is this:

I am more than your physical release or cleavage in a photo.
I am a beating heart who loves you so much.
I am eyes who have watched you suffer for years.
I am ears who have heard your cries of frustration,
But also, the same story in a repeating pattern.

You gave her an ultimatum.
She turned it down.
And crawled back--not for you--but for herself.
Sometimes I want to shake you,
But then I think maybe this is really what you want
And I'm just a pleasant distraction.

What I cannot tell you is this:

Don't give her chance after chance.
She'll keep distracting and delaying the discussions.
She's shown you what she wants, and it isn't you.
She's made no true effort to love you.
And she won't as long as you allow it.

Tell her you're done--it's over.
Don't give her the option.
Give her the papers.
Walk away and choose yourself.
Don't give in.

What I cannot be is this:

Your fantastic distraction from what you say is so horrible.
A way to have your own needs met without letting go of what hurts you.
The one you come to when you're lonely--but it's a one-way street.
The one watching you in a cycle that you won't release yourself from.
The one who wants to love you--but watch you keep begging for her love.

I love you and I want to love you,
But I want to love all of you--
Or I cannot love any of you.