NurseSheGirl

July 19, 2026

You found me when I would not chase,
and slowly drew me to your grace.
With patient words and gentle care,
you taught my guarded heart to dare.

You knocked upon my bolted gate,
arrived before I learned to wait.
You crossed the distance, closed the sea,
your footsteps landed nearest me.

So when I finally let you in,
and bared the places worn and thin,
I thought the road we’d walked before
would lead us somewhere even more.

But now I count the quiet days,
and search for traces, signs, displays.
Each morning waits for just one line,
to prove your wandering heart seeks mine.

Instead I wonder, hesitate,
afraid I’ll send a bit too late.
Or worse… too soon. Or far too much.
Too hungry for your gentle touch.

Why do I feel things turn so fast
from being sought to holding past.
The hands once reaching after me
now rest while mine refuse to flee.

I hate how fragile I’ve become,
how every silence leaves me numb.
How every pause begins to grow
into a truth I do not know.

My mind invents what isn’t there,
then dresses shadows up as care.
It whispers, “See? He’s slipping free.
You mattered less than you could see.”

So out I pour my frightened soul,
while trying to stay in control.
I say, “I’m sorry. Did I fail?”
before I’ve heard the truest tale.

I wish my heart were made of stone,
content to simply stand alone.
Instead it beats with trembling art,
a glass cathedral called a heart.

Yet if you knew the fears I hide,
the storms I keep so deep inside,
perhaps you’d see I’m not too much…
I’m someone craving your sweet touch.

And if you still choose to stay,
don’t let your silence lead the way.
For love grows strongest, I believe,

when both pursue…
and both receive.