things i can't know, eyes i can't see

Do you know what it's like, to be embarrassed all the time?

Of course you do. Silly question.

Do you know what it's like, to feel inadequate all the time?

Moreover, to feel inadequate while knowing, what they call intellectually, that you're not doing anything wrong. Very nearly, that you're doing everything right.

And I don't mean to impress that it's you who are doing just the opposite (everything wrong; nothing right - i hope to convince you of the efficacy of simply not succumbing (refusing to succumb) to the impulse to just voice those incisive thoughts so repetitive they've dulled, because at some point you've left setting free and have crossed to the shore of allowing infestation), but rather that I may be creating smoke where there are only bees.

If I'm not touching you, holding you, stimming you, does that make me the standoffish partner who can't be bothered, who is inattentive and inadequate to the challenge of being an equal force? Or am I just not doing it? Because I don't want to. Because I would be doing it, if I wanted to.

Do I persecute myself unnecessarily? Do I fail to persecute myself enough?

I should lend you my bravery, shouldn't I. I should carry your frailty, shouldn't I.

But must I? Must we?

That to be less than entirely attentive to your wants and your woes is a capital sin, is the direct impetus for me to be discarded.

Which only places me in the role of principal executor. Is it only a question of agency, to allow you (to force you) to ask me, to entreat me, to beg?

You shouldn't have to plead. I should be everything you want, everything you need.

I should, because I am capable. Physically. Mentally. Am I not?

Emotionally. Spiritually.

Romantically. Sexually.

Or maybe I'm just...not.

And then I haven't sinned, because I am only acting according to my capability, my capacity, my specific array of appointed gifts.

Gifts. What do I give you?

Only conversation. Only, by measures, constancy. Only what I feel right and equipped to give.

(The neat and classic substitute is presents, 'stead of presence. If I can be there, I should. But it's such a distance. I don't want to. I'm not. I won't.)

I suppose we must murder obligation as the driver of relationships. I suppose we must eradicate reciprocation.

As if anything that is done in suit to level the field is only done for that reason, and not because equal (equivalent, equanimous, equatable) contribution is and has always, historically, been agreeable to all.

I must be your knight, if you want to be a princess. I mustn't be honest with you, nor myself. I must only serve.

I can kneel. I can and should be quite so very good at it.

Because you asked me. Because I feel indebted to you.

Because I want you to want to talk to me, so that I can hear what you have to say.

And at every conversation's end, I feel I have dragged you through my mud and viscerae, not even attempting to make it a gift of intimacy and mutual understanding. I rush to condemn myself at every tributary's end, swiftly re-centering you, because I should.

Because I should.

All I should do is love you.