Is it OK to Recycle a Love Poem?

A month or so back, Drew’s brother had to have a toe amputated.  He’s diabetic and doesn’t take care of himself.  I was worried he’d be depressed, so I ended up writing him a series of limericks.  He absolutely loved them, and Drew couldn’t stop bragging about how quickly I wrote each one.

Not long after his recovery, Drew’s brother came to visit us.  He walked in and didn’t say a word to me, so I razzed him about the fact that I’ve written him poetry, and he didn’t even say hi.  Drew said, “yeah, I’m marrying her and she’s never written me a poem.

It’s true.  I’ve never been able to find the words that would convey my feelings as eloquently as I feel this relationship deserves.  I wrote that in a card to him for Valentine’s day, and he loved it.

Today, I came across this poem, while looking for something else I’d written.  I’d completely forgotten about it.  I wrote it about 15 years ago for a guy I’d met on World of Warcraft.  He lived in Louisiana, but told me he’d been planning to move to California with some friends.  When he got here, he was none of the things that he claimed to be.  Due to my own trauma, it took me a long time to end the relationship.  I’m sure I wrote about that somewhere in this journal.

I’ve made two minor modifications, but I think this describes my relationship with Drew beautifully.

---

Risk

I stood on the edge of a cliff, looking down, knees trembling and stomach churning as I prepared to cross yet another chasm.
You said, “You could make it, easily.”  But I wasn’t convinced.

I looked across the ravine to the snowy mountain peaks.  I heard the whispers calling to me, but I was frozen.
You said, “It’s beautiful up there.  You should take a look some time.”  But I suspected you just wanted me to move quickly and without caution, and I have too many scars from too many careless steps that came before.

“I don’t want to move!  I’m afraid,” I thought.  But all I could say was, “Yes.  I should,” as I clutched a tree limb for added support.
You said, “I didn’t ask you to move.  I was just making an observation.”  But how did you know what I was thinking?

“What if I fall?”
“I don’t think you will.”
“Can you guarantee that?”
“No.  But I’ll do my best to keep you safe.”

I believed you.  
        You took my hand
                I closed my eyes.
                        I let go of the tree.  
                                And I fell.

But I didn’t hit the ground.  
And when I opened my eyes you were next to me and you had wings.  
I said, “Why didn’t you tell me you had wings?”
You said, “Because I didn’t have them until you took my hand.”

And then I noticed that I had them too and we laughed out loud and flew as high and as fast as we could, free and light and easy, and I knew it was you who brought me here and that you couldn’t have reached this place without me. 

Sometimes I look down and my stomach lurches.  The scars from years of falling and crashing and aching and bleeding are hard to put out of my head.
But before I tell you I’m afraid, you squeeze my hand and I can only see upward.  And I cannot wait to see where you and I will go together.

---

So, should I give it to Drew?  Should I tell him its origin?  He knows about all of my past relationships.

P.S.  Here are the limericks:  😉

Written 1/6/2023
_	I have a big brother named Kevin. Tomorrow his toe goes to Heaven. The toe’s been so sore, But it won’t hurt anymore. Let’s go to 7-11. We’ll get a box of good n plenty Some donuts, and Slurpees and then he Will turn away slow So no one can know He drops his pants to count twenty
1/18/2023
	In the hospital, Kevin’s still stuck It’s like he’s run out of luck He just needs a vac So his foot wont turn black. Insurance companies really suck He asked for a case rethink They thought he asked for a shrink Someone got lazy They all think he’s crazy And now he’s on the brink.
2/7/2023
	Remember my 19-toed brother? His story is like no other. They cut off his piggy But the part that is icky Is what they’re using to keep him together. It’s the excess skin of a baby’s peter. That keeps Kevin’s bones in his feet, er.. Though Kevin misheard, When they said the p-word He thought he was getting an extra centimeter.