I want this

Too much libation and snacking on fears
of culinary dishes of past relationships
You ask me if I still want this.
I want this.

Your trepidation is sopping wet with
disbelief and I as I ache trying
to formulate the correct words
You say,
Your kids are a part of this and do I still
want this.
I want this.

The slow methodical pace of the internet
finds every snag forcing us on our
hands and knees crawling towards
oblivion and more misunderstanding.
I (still)  want this.

Indentured, I slave and toil at the keys
while my fingers bleed and drip panic
across my keyboard while I wait for
You to deliver the next crushing blow
to my vulnerable heart.
I want this.

Drawing a deep breath and a sigh of
relief through stinging rain I read
Your words of want;
You want this, too!

I want this, as well, my love.
I’ve always wanted this.