Cloths that Fold

When love isn't secure. And, neither are you

It's off and on
all of the time.
Why can't that man
just be all mine?

He loves me yet,
he doesn't know
what brings him here
or makes him go.

I myself,
have lost direction.
My rational side
fights his affection.

I judge him not.
Though he does render
a convicted soul in
need of defender

He is the leader
of his pride
always disregarding
what's felt inside

But I am strong enough
to see more
and realize what
he is destitute for.

He requires tolerance,
to be understood
Yet, no one can
No one ever could.

So, I guess it's me
who's patience endures,
The illness that's cursed him
awaits me to cure

I often pray for him
late at night
In hope that one day
he will be blessed by light.

I long for the moment
when he'll believe
in how much I love him
wearing heart upon sleeve

For, to me he is
a man above men
who'll never cross paths
like my love again.

He deserves this connection
more than he knows
and once he accepts it
he'll never let go

Then, only then
the cloths that we hold
will finally, eternally,
perfectly, fold.