Standard

You gave me little. I smiled. Accepted.
Bemusement. Hope. Enticement. Love?
Before we kissed, you told me you loved me.
Forbid me speak when we did.
I gave. You smiled. Accepted. Accepted again.
Time. Body. Sex. Devotion. But love?
When we lay in bed, I wanted to speak words.
Your fingers blocked my lips. The letters.

Standardized loving isn't loving.
But I need standards or I'll find you again.
I will love you again and hope.
Be still my gentle heart, I'm bleeding
For some other broken soul.
One more broken soul.

And we will love until you're through.
And I will love and move on.

My heart is full. Rooms with portraits,
Altars for the love of loss.
And so I love you still.

I fail your standards
So you leave me
Standing, kneeling, crying
on the altar
Where I exist alone
With a faceless god not present.

And I set standards so I
never need create a room.