If I could love past a man’s past, why does he always judge my innocence so fast?

I know you won’t show up in my doorway.

Though you’d be welcome still.

I know you won’t call me again.

Your voice an echo on the hill.

I know you won’t take my hand and walk beside me.

Yet I will hold it out, I will.

There was a dance you wanted quickly.

One you judged my spirit too fragile to touch.

And there were too many others in your waiting.

I know in reality you didn’t want me that much.

Yet my esteem is not low of you,

though some could argue that it should be.

Nor is it low of me,

though some might think that it would be.

Did you worry I might ask how many?

I know that would not set you free.

I hope you know I’d only ask, that for our time,

You just held onto me.

And I’ll still hold out hope,

we could have made it.

How would it not be?

It is the beauty of the dream.

-ljh