the weight of the wooden beams overlaid with countless
harrowing splinters
carried on your stainless sturdy back while
you held me there so softly
secure in your hands, even though you knew;
you knew I drove those splinters into your
back to begin with, and continued,
buried them deeper into your skin, you
carried me forward into the day that
I shudder when I remember the way I used to
wound you gladly, without a stain of sorrow
even still turning back now and then to
note what I had done, for shame
the wrath I deserve, you took
you took it all the more gladly, for me
living the life I could not, dying the death I deserve
and you love me still, you love me still