The peddler

I suppose I may have been fishing.

Not ready for "I love you's" but baiting for an indication.

Whispered "I think I may be falling in love with you" as we lay.

But I do, I do love him. Well, have love for him.

Feel that welling inside.

The 'in love' may follow.

He didn't push away, but pulled me closer if anything.

He made his excuses -garbling, confused in my mind.

His actions undermining his words.

But.

There were words.

Strung together.

Lapsing, erroneous,

At times incomprehensible, perhaps.

But.

A message?

There, he held our future. I felt it keenly.

Flashbacks to loves of old.

A message I should heed?

But I can't.

I won't lie.

He isn't 'just another' for me.

But I can't be unrealistic, as for him I may well be.

But he's asked for time, time that will make a queen or a mockery of me.

Perhaps I am convenient?

Girlfriend-experience as they call it.

Bring me the fuck with meaning - the support when I need it.

Skip the integration and cohabitation.

I am strong.

But not nearly as hardened as he presumed

Still Achilles.

Still, a heart that doesn't break is no heart at all.