how Cape Cod lost all its whales

I want to look at you and not feel fear. 

For in your eyes, I am not replaceable. The first and last of my kind. 

Hold your too-good-to-be-trues. 

I am more real than life. 

Yet I am cowardly. Any glint in my eyes when I see the generous way you handle others, any strategic placement of my hands on the table right after you've asked a sincere question about myself, any laugh that turned into a cackle at your conversation, I perform. My back to the edge of the cliff.

I'm still bruising over.

Like the incarnations of our breaths on the first snow day and the steel of the library gates on your way out, my hands are cold and my heart is frozen over, waiting to survive what might be one last winter. And I'll never do it. I dare not hope beyond the last point I broke at.

Everyone starts to feel the same. Or rather, I feel the same. I learn the same lessons. I drag them out, knowing what they are. I relive them all again like a ghost on the top of the stairs, waiting for you to come home, to spook you, and watch your back as you run away. Catching only the echo of your last "arghhhhh", on your way out.

I can't have it any other way.

So why... I'm about to ask you why. I think you anticipated it. 

"Why did you choose me?" Why do you spend time with me? Why do you even like me? Why do you want me to share this mediocre steak with and stay with me all night even if I didn't let you kiss me? 

Why haven't you left by now? 

"I mean, why me?"

Your answer will only cure my fears for a weeknight, before I overthink.

Because I-- I overly want this. And when I do, things go overly wrong. Things end. Cape Cod loses all its whales. All libraries shut down and all ghosts of this physical world take a physical form and have legal rights to go to court and be the key witnesses of their own deaths.

But you're thoughtful. You're kind. It's only ever the 5th time I've done this. You are --

Where the first becomes a third becomes a fifth becomes a sort-of-commitment. 

We sit there and promise each other nothing. The steak bones on our plates are cooling. The napkin on your lap lifts gently. I don't want to be too happy that I find you sweet. And possibly good for my health.

"Why you?" you repeat. You look thoughtfully above my head. You look quickly down at your hands, one hand holding your napkin gently. "You're---" 

And you list it all so easily. It's your ease. A part of me wants to find a way off the cliff early and call you guilty. Tell you you're wrong. Call you a liar. A fraud. 

That this dinner -- 

I smile back at you. I make sure to show my teeth and fold the corners of my eyes up. I make sure to cover my mouth at some point as I smile. I lean forward, letting some hair slip out from behind my ear. And I thank you. "For answering this silly question of mine."

You remind me how good it is to adore someone easily. And earnestly. 

And I probably remind you of what an insecure soul feels like.

I only wished I could feel half as good about myself, alone, than having to be here, feeling like I have to be adored to be any good.

With ease, you wipe lightly the corner of my mouth with your napkin, before leaning back. And looking as if you're changing your mind about something, you lean back in and brush my slip of hair behind my ear. A little smile paints your face. 

My ankles don't know where to go and my breaths still feel cold. If we continue this, with my ankles and knees as fearful as they are, I fear Cape Cod will lose all its whales.

Too bad that, I only know I will feel safe wherever you're going. 

You look like you know what you're doing. You look like you know what you want and why. And you look like you want me.

So I must be onto something.

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I wrote this poem not to reflect my present self haha. I wrote it from the perspective of my earlier youth, years ago. Back when I was a lot more inexperienced with dating. How I didn't feel all too good about myself and yet still went on dates to try to feel better. 

It obviously never worked. To love yourself through others. 

But I was reminded of how I should love myself. And that the stability I kept searching for in these romantic getaways would never be the same as the moment it clicked within. In my bouts of solitude but especially my amazing memories with friends and mentors, I developed this keen sense of who I wanted to be and why.

And that is enough, if I didn't already know who I already was.

To all the meals I've had with good men, I thank you.

To all the moments I've had with people who loved me and moments of solitude, I thank you. For allowing me to hug myself as tightly as I've always wanted to be held.