The end

I’m going to write about you now.
because i have to.
Because my feelings are all over the place
And I’m going to settle them here.
I’m wondering if I love you.
Because I’ve never loved anyone before.
Don’t get me wrong.
I’ve been in love.
Hell, I’m 40 years old.
I hope I’ve been in love before.
But since no other love has lasted,
Either I haven’t really been in love
Or I just couldn’t handle it.
I feel a helluva lot of things for you.
I want to be with you all the time.
But your schedule is involved
And the time that we have together
Is measured in glasses of wine
And cigarettes.
I want to stay the night with you
And make love to you,
But there are complications.
And these complications
Are coming to define our relationship.
Don’t get me wrong.
There is no one else I want to be with.
But I’m with myself more than I’m with you.
And I find it hard to fill my time
Without thoughts of you.
So I ask myself, do I love you?
I’d never tell you I love you.
At least not right now.
I think it would be more of a burden
Than a boon
To your life.
I can see myself telling you I love you,
Maybe in a year or two.
But even then, I see the world
Exploding
When I tell you this.
So what am I doing?
Why am I scratching at your door
When I could pull back
And find other doors to pester?
Other doors that will open sooner.
I guess I love you.
And I am waiting to say it
Because i'm worried
that will begin
The end.