in the way a little bird collects
sticks and shiny things
I've been collecting anything I see
that might make you smile
I love to think that I could be,
even in a small way,
part of your joy
sneaking my love to you between chirps
stick by stick

I communicate through songs and poems,
gestures and strings and keys and underlines
fewer words, rather melodies to follow
articulating my thoughts
better than I ever could

it's so much deeper than I even realize
etched into my marrow, year after year
crying in your arms
because you were kind

if I never ask anything of you
expect nothing, give no opportunity,
you can't let me down
can't forget, change your mind
I'll keep you at a distance
so I won't expect a thing
retaining what little power I have

my romantic loves, traditionally, have not been healthy
wrong, forced, cruel, hurt, anxiety-ridden
a healthy relationship hadn't found me.
but in every other sense, I am surrounded
my friends, my family, my city, loves me
unconditionally, warmly, easily
they make me better and wrap me up
the healthiest, truest love I've ever known

luckily I am no stranger to the after
luckily for me, I'm used to this feeling.
though leaving me hollow,
I can just retreat to my little palace
to the fail-safes I installed long ago
that will likely always be there
because god knows no one else would be

at two and a half years old,
newly adopted, her first home
my cat wouldn't eat
unless I sat with her.
she would lay next to me,
let me hold her in my arms
but didn't trust her world to eat alone
to be in such a vulnerable state
back turned, unguarded.
after all
her history demonstrated, time and time again
that her food would be stolen
she'd have to fight for it
that someone could hurt her
because they did, they had.
two years later
she'll lay next to me
let me hold her in my arms
and eat
even when I'm not there
but some days
she still asks