if I hold your hand, I am settling;
if I hold your hand, I am settling too,
or maybe you are settling
for me.my walks are imaginary, with both
my lovers on each side, and they look
down at me with their beautiful eyes
to ask me why I hesitate.
“pick what you want,” he says,
his half-grin on his face.
“pick me,” he says, more softly,
and kisses my forehead with his eyes.but only when you are the same person
can I tell you yes, irrevocably yes.— August Winters, Oct. 2010
I love finding my old poetry because it always says the same thing: I’ve longed for what I finally found even before I was sure it existed.