To justify my love
having been told so often that it can’t be
that it’s too soon
I find myself in a constant war of justification where I say “I love you…”
waiting for the rejection
waiting for the no
waiting for the hesitation that says your love is scary
and I say
in that forced brittle cheer of the beaten
and all flinches “…but I love everybody.”
which is sorta true
I love all the people I love and have ever loved
but I diminish my words
scrunch down to make them fit
this too small container of what is acceptable
I’m the broken one for my love
I’m the tragic fool for my open heart
it’s always too soon
until it’s too late