Gifting

I've been thinking on something you gave me:

Was it a song?  Was it a kiss?

Was it me that gave you tremors,
the rapid choking breath, anxiety like a vice?

You gave me reason to question
if I deserve someone as good as you.

The yarn we shared has been unravelling
since we met last July and has since
we've said goodbye (over skype, how small)
given way to a lump of alloyed self-reflections

Of sudden shaking hands and ears that won't stop burning
(I know you talk about me)
but most of all a need to flee, to feel free,
to untangle from the bramble that we're both
wrapped up inside
(and may have grown accustomed to)

But all that yarn's now mine--

All the shock and sorry wrecks
of groping for light are good
for the the soul of a Searcher, the lostness,

(my saudade never fades) yielding nuggets
I collect in sincere fear and blindess
will be gems once I'm out the other side

becoming gifts for the fateful present.