I Love Them Both
Jennifer Gafeller
October 28, 1997



Simple words on a screen.
That's all, just glowing phrases.
And yet they touch me,
In a way few have.

Remembrances.
Of all too brief embraces.
On the steps, in the dark.
Your body and mine.

Remembrances.
Of your arms around me,
Deep in sleep, comforting.
Safe in that embrace.

And now, what?
Now there is more.
Friendship, certainly.
But is that all?

Against my will.
Against my better judgement.
Against all that should be.
Now there is love.

Fear as well.
But it's always that way.
That's what the scholars say.
But what do they know?

Excitement.
At the thought
Of touching you,
As you have touched me.

Touched me.
As one soul to another.
Touching, in a way few have.
In a way that speaks to my heart.

My heart.
That's beginning to dare.
Dare to feel.
But my head refuses.

My head.
That screams it can never be.
That reminds of another.
That reminds of a vow.

My vows.
To one who claims to understand.
But how can he?
When I don't.

Confusion.
It tears through me.
I struggle against it.
But to no avail.

Emotions.
They war within me.
Love versus commitments.
Love against love.

Love.
For two that mean everything.
Everything that is precious to me.
Everything there is to live for.

How?
How to love them both.
How to allow myself to feel.
How to keep sane?

Sanity.
That elusive commodity.
It escapes me when I think of them.
Both of them, who control my heart.

They.
I love them both.
Of that, no question.
But how to love them?

Loving them.
As they both deserve to be loved.
Do I have it within me?
To love them both?

Fear.
Fear of loving them both.
Fear of not loving them enough.
Fear of losing them.

Loss.
That loss would kill me.
That loss would be too much to bear.
Loss of either of them.

Silence.
I refrain from speaking.
Speaking of my love.
That would destroy what we have.

And now.
Now I remain silent.
When I wish to shout it out.
I love them both.