It seemed like you were always challenging me.
Getting into your heart was like being told to wait at the door, rather than being invited in. I stood there with shuffling feet, and gazed in through the screen door at a life in your home, your heart.
I listened for feet to come down stairs, and a subtle boom-boom, just to know you were alive.
This was a wrapped in your arms- tangled on my bed- under a ceiling fan-in the middle of May kind of feeling. A slight sheen of sweat covered our bodies, but I didn’t want to part, because it felt like if I held on just long enough, maybe you’d finally invite me in.
I knew life had been hard to you in the past, and that love was a gentle thing that should not be tampered with. I always made sure to never put weight on the ideas of us; I waded in the shallow zone, stood on your front porch, and calmly listened to your stories. We would share about lost loves, past loves, and our ideas of who we could love.
All this time, I spent it in the shade of that porch, your porch. I got comfortable there, and I allowed for it to be the place I would reside. I settled, I settled in, and I wondered if you’d ever invite me in.
But you never did, instead you opened the door, stood outside with me, on the porch of your heart, and that’s where we spoke, that’s where I stayed, and that’s as far as you ever let me in.
Until one day, you stopped answering the door, and the porch began to cover itself in autumn leaves. You were up and gone, and I was left peering through the screen, with the door bolted shut, wondering what had happened.
It soon dawned on me, that I had spent so much time waiting on that porch, your porch- that I forgot to step out from the shade and into the sun.
And so slowly, I did, I walked down those steps and into the blaring sun, and I let it cover me in warmth, and remind me of a brand new day.
Never live life waiting in the shade.
Never love by sitting on the porch.