Your patience baffles me.
Perhaps it's not my business.
I have theories though,
that protect me from feeling too much,
from being too touched by you,
defensive structures against your up hill battle,
where I can fire arrows when you try to breach
the weakest part of the walls,
designed to throw you back
and fight another day.
All sieges end
And you are a benevolent besieger, I know.
Instead of assault, you're patient.
We negotiate the breach of each wall,
and you wait,
offering me no fight,
choosing parley over pressure.