I just got off the phone with you, and right now I'm kinda pissed off. Not at you, but how it went with what I wrote.

There were two very important messages I wanted to make, but only one of those came through. First, of course, I really like you and hope to share a slice of my life with you one day and come to know you better. But second, I AM NOT READY FOR A RELATIONSHIP RIGHT NOW.

I feel that this extremely important message -- and the whole reason I wrote my poem in the first place -- was lost in the weight of the first message.

Oh, my dear friend. You need so deeply to be loved that you could not see beyond those particular words... That you are so taken aback by my enfatuation with you is utterly charming. But I do NOT want to date you right now. I was not asking you to fall in love with me. That's the whole point.

"Can you wait for me?"

Wait. Patience. Let me read my poem to you again, and listen for the desire for patience and time.

Shit.

I wish the timing wasn't so bad. And now I feel that being honest and open has caused some doors to be shut tight against this raging wind. That's not the point. I can keep this wind at bay. I won't blow your house down. I promise you that. You don't have to protect yourself, because I will protect you myself.

That's the whole point. Patience? Please? But until then I wanted to offer you at least the hollow hole where my heart once hid, the simple place-holder, until the time when I am ready to reinstall my new renovated heart. It is nothing of an offer: no love, no heart, no promises...but I wanted at least to give you the potential and hope that's enough for now. My number-box works just fine :) and I wanted to at least let you know that you were first in line, if you were willing to stay and wait to hold your place...

I have nothing to offer you right now. Nothing at all. No holding hands, no sex, no kissing, no love at all. Nothing. I am empty. Maybe you need those things right now so desperately that you can't wait a few months. Or, jeese, maybe you will find someone that you get along with even better than you do with me. I have nothing to offer you to hold my place.

I have nothing at all to offer you. Only a promise that when things are better, and [if] we get together later on, that I know it'll be worth it to you. You'll have to trust me on this one. That's what I'm asking: to trust me on it.

What can I give you in exchange for this trust? I feel like a pauper. "I'll gladly pay you tuesday for a hamburger today." I'm a magic frog, but it's going to take a while to kiss me. Can you wait for the full moon to come around again? Please please?

Patience. Time. Please read my poem again. I think you may have missed the whole point.

-- Sept. 11, 1999