I can hear myself
Convincing you
Convincing me
My earnestness strains
To be heard
To be accepted
To quiet my mind of doubts
To quiet your tongue of questions
I repeat myself
Tasting the words
Chewing them over
Letting them spill forth
Emphatically
Letting the pauses
Speak of surety
Letting my gestures spell out confidence
Waiting out your nods
Searching your smiles
For satisfaction or smirks
Weighing all the segues
And praying for a tangent
A providential interjection
intotheindigo 
Should love be that difficult? is there such a thing as “true love?”