We were lovers before we were friends.
You wanted to build a nest in my tree
before bothering to climb it
or learning me
to see whether or not my branches
could hold your home
filled with things upon things.
You wanted big things
nice things
shiny and expensive things.
You didn't want to decorate me,
you wanted to use me like a coat rack
to hold your winter coat
over summer.
You never asked if I liked things.
You assumed
that there are things I like
and things that I don't like
but it isn't things that I want -
it's people
and feelings
and moments.
It's everything that can't be bought
that brings me joy.
But you,
you were so sure
that if you filled my mouth with
money
it would mute the sound of my discontent.
But it only made me creak louder.
And when you tried to keep my hands busy
with the job of holding the things
you bought for me,
you thought
it would stop me from
pushing you away
when you whispered at night
that you loved me,
and now it was my turn to say thank you
by doing things
written in fine print
at the bottom of your receipts.
But you can't pay me to stand tall,
to hold your things high off the ground
when the flood waters rise.
You can't place your coins in a slot
to make a tree bend to your wind
or let you tether off your boat
to weather a storm beneath her limbs.
You slipped me so many tips,
but I don't have a price.
We were lovers before we were friends,
and we were strangers long
before we said goodbye.