Waiting...

It's an odd feeling, sitting here, wondering if you're off with someone else.
Wondering what you might be up to,
Or with whom.
I wait, with a strange mix of anticipation,
Bringing with it, both excitement and dread.

So many questions, so much imagination.
What am I to do with these swirling thoughts?
Do I shut them out, or embrace them, build on them, create them?
I long to know, yet so enjoy the suspense.
Fearing the truth, lest I find it less than my dreaming.

To choose such a path seems strange and foolish to most,
Those who can't understand my longings.
Nor the perfect bliss that is mine, when I send off my beloved,
Knowing he'll revel in other women's arms,
Not knowing who or what might transpire.

My love is such, that I yearn for this way,
The submission, the lack of control.
It humbles me, thrills me, frightens me, challenges me.
I'm pulled and stretched, made to give and bend.
My heart must remain ever open.

So, I sit, waiting, wondering, hoping, fearing,
Caring little for what others might think or judge.
This is my journey of love,
And I'll take it.
With arms, heart and mind,
Wide open.