11-month Love Song

When I’m stuck like this

Decisions don’t come

Possible solutions

Half-formed ideas,

Yes.

All plagued with

If, then, statements

Doubt

Fear

Monstrous anxiety.

Everything I do

Or say

Or think,

I analyze:

Is it kind?

Is it true?

Is it necessary?

Am I making all of this up?

Sometimes

My thoughts

Aren’t true;

They play games

Pull me under.

Know this, love:

I have yet to find

Any guided meditation

Any singing bowls

Or music

That eases this torment

Like listening to you sleep

By my side.

And

You

Hold your breath in such a way

While you read yourself to sleep

One breath out

One in

Then held onto

For several beats;

Habit formed by an old injury.

After eleven months

I’ve grown more used to it;

Just one more piece of you

I tuck inside my heart.