Asking for Love
He is afraid
to ask for love.
Because
he might be embarrassed
or she might think him strange.
Because
certainly so many have asked her before
and over time she has come
to dread and despise it.
Because
it embarrasses her,
and she does not feel pleasant.
Because
she might have to say no, and that is not
what the asker or anyone likes to hear.
One day he asks her, because he simply can’t bear
to see her and watch her and not find out what
could possibly happen
if he did such a thing.
He asks for something
that she will not give.
She tells him no,
but he persists.
She becomes angry and
he only laughs.
She becomes more angry, and
he takes offense.
He becomes angry too, and
she takes offense.
They are both very angry, and
they both take offense.
They both storm off in a
frightful rage.
They both feel guilt
a while later that day
and a tinge of disbelief that
such awful things
could be uttered by their own and the other’s mouth.
They both, for a day, and
a week, and
a month,
avoid each other’s glances and
stiffly ignore
the very existence of
the other one’s person.
Until, one day, in the sunshine of May
the face once ignored
appears more beautiful than
what was remembered,
and the burning in
their chest had now vanished.
Words not said
became words gently said and
hands not held
became hands gently held and
lips not kissed
became lips gently kissed and
he was not afraid
to ask for love.
