I see the fine lines, webbed by your words
And the trail of comfort you have left behind.
I see you on the fabric, etched it warm and soft.
I see you in the wood, worn and cared.
I see you in the metal, loved and tended.
I see you on my skin.
I see where you have kissed and I see your gentleness.
I see you, my heart nothing but cup for my love.
I know not how to love thus,
For how can one love so fully
And still leave room for themselves?
How am I to walk this path?
I do not know myself,
Lesser still where I thread.
I am but uncertainty,
Darling, I know nothing
Not even myself.
How I fear -
I have said no lie.
I did not doubt a single word; then.
How can I express it,
It consumes my thoughts.
webs forming, nimble limbs
under the strain of convention,
there is a reaction that weighs the air
around us down.
and as hearts between again, practice
is forgotten and doesn't it always feel
like the first time?
again, we swear that we've never
felt quite like this before.
i find the beating nerve on my chest,
soothe it with words of indifference -
do not get attached to what is not yours;
do not hang your hopes upon the mantel of his presence.
i repeat them often; my mantra.
always unsure, as i call, jawbone queasy, if it is self-love or self-doubt that drives my anxious heart
it was not the ****** that woke my conscience
but the way you kissed the soft side of my thighs
that gave rise to a smile in the dim light of summer
i suffer through a lens
as i make my grief acceptable
and lets the pieces fall in pretty patterns
i carry the burden of my hatred close
to the memories of my love.
i carry the cruel words said in careless tones
how you never apologize for anything you've done.
i carry the weight of words from others
to whom i have never asked anything of, not once
for their words are never to help, only to tear something out.
you are so viciously wrapped in your own vitriol
that it spills out, and you hold my hands and say
'why are you never enough?'