I needed a reason for us not to move forward
Stagnation had somehow become 
our voyageur through time
and I thought, by keeping our slow movement,
the seasons would keep passing us by
So I told him that
It was still too new to me
Harnessing so much sexual energy as to
undeniably prove all literary Goddess' of Love
to be black
was too much responsibility
for my level of maturity

I imagined images of stumbling toddlers and 
sour green mangoes swirling in his head
as he processed the information

It was still too new to me??

He knew that he could no longer waste his days 
trying to recapture his lost youth
I knew that he found no joy
relating with the uncertainties of mine
We both knew where this was going
and always had

Moving at a pace we had grown accustomed to
he changed his story from
giving me his love to merely 
lending me his affection
and after years of storing his heart 
next to mine, for safe keeping,
I was asked to return it

"It was still too new to me,"
and he couldn't chance my breaking it.