Black

Another day of me realizing,
again, that I am not.
Not capable.
Not available.
Not willing.
Not accepting.
Not open-hearted.
Not tender enough.
Not confident enough.
Not thou-centered. 
Not seeing.
Not giving. 
Not able.
Not.

The gifts of life are laid at my feet,
so close that I could stumble over them.
I could pick them up and marvel.
I could lay down in them and be blanketed
by all that is right and good
and beautiful in life. 
I could have loved. I could love.
But I choose not to. I chose not to.
And then, as it should,
love walks away.


I'm sorry. To her I say that.
To me I say that. To the very idea
that is and sustains love,
I say that.  I am sorry.
So deeply full of sad.