trust

The past intrudes in odd ways
mostly, with reason, that now
everything I say is filtered
through a lens of my past
indiscretions and hurtfulness
the pain I have caused you
as much as I would desire
my dear lover, to start fresh
fresh isn’t happening, it can’t
and so I say something
that again is a fuck-up
and we get crossed
and I am irritable
and, oh lover, that is the last
way I ever, ever want to be
with you, when what I desire
is your skin alongside mine
and your mouth on mine
and your heart to mine

How can I unwind all this
so that what passes between us
is what truly is, and not
my imagined versions of past hurts
amplified into today?

It always and only starts
with my attention, my intention
and when I am solid in that
as solid as I desire to be
as solid as you have been
then I will no longer, I dare hope
speak anything to you
but my heart’s deepest truth.