Are you trying to make people feel sorry for you?
Love is better than sympathy. Love is what I tried to do,
And in my spectacular failure, I found,
As my love spoke, you preferred love not to make a sound.
You love to do what you do, as long as no one says what you do.
When I tried to make a speech, a song, a crazy kiss, you would say, no.
You were made for the cedars. You liked to watch the grass grow.
I learned, too late, to be quiet around you.
Sometimes you did want a laugh, or a story.
I complied. But after a while it was clear I was forcing that glory.
If only you needed euphonious words! That’s what I had.
Words praising beauty are superfluous. You said, “shut up.” You got mad.
Love is ruined by the self-consciously grasping. My love became a duty.
Wordless, I marched up the mountain—and saw beauty.
In that far wilderness I was wordless.
Words fell away with the rains. All that was left was yes.