too long a note

I wrote
too long a note to you.

I'm never certain afterwards,
just how that's going to be received.
Even though - generally - you always
take it all, and me, in just the spirit
I intend.

You even tend to rave a bit, sometimes
you make it seem deserved. You'll gush
over a part or two that I might easily have caught,
and thought a little wrong, or bent, and cut,
had I considered it - the final draft - as rough,
re-read, gone over once or twice to polish up,
to pull, and stretch and knife and stitch.

I do that, every now and then.

But usually, I just hit send.
You seem to get I mean each word,
you seem not one bit too concerned
that I have meant too much, or you
have meant too much. Although, you do!
- it doesn't seem to worry you.
You seem to trust me, for that part.

A good call on your part! For sure.

But as of now, uncomfortably
I find myself re-reading more
than I realized I'd written.

Oh, there isn't anything I'd be ashamed
to have you read, or know, but some of it
just seems a bit too much, perhaps
- you know? Although,
although,

you know me.

You know me, and you always have
somehow known how
to take my word.

I guess
I'll sit here,
worrying, as usual
- a nervous bird
whose song is overlong,
perhaps. Some times, a note
or two too much - but
generally well-received
for all of that!

It's worth a touch
of suspense.