Straight No Chaser

I Do Not Know What It Is About You That Closes

it's why i will have to be somebody's mother someday, and why i would never last as a man: my protective instinct is unbelievably swollen, and misdirected; i want to fix everyone and hold everyone and marvel at their smallness and vulnerability even as i am building and bolstering them, eliminating both; i want to do this for a highly selective group of people, especially, and i want them to know that i will, and to let me.

and i want them to share my treasures, and know they're treasures because i said so, not because they necessarily inherently are, but because, and i want it to mean something, when i give a gift that i'd want given unto me.

and i'm about to enter an intense e.e. cummings phase, because i'm rediscovering my favorite of his poems, and most especially the last four lines, applicable here and in general. so obviously man to woman. but i want it, though, this whatever cummings had that drew this from him:

"(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands"