i feel as though
i have been trying
to reach you
my entire life.

i tried to
hack through
your walls with
brute strength,
but only succeeded
in reinforcing
your defenses.

i tried to shine light
and warmth on you,
only to find you
recede further
into the darkness.

i tried planting flowers
along your borders,
only to find them
tore up and in disarray.

i tried to
give you wide, open space
only to
feel myself
retreat to a
smaller and
more protected
circle.

there is nothing
to do,
but attempt
to repair myself,

except the wounds
you inflict
are not acute,
but for the moment
of separation
and despair.

your wounds are chronic.
they must be controlled,
but cannot be cured.

i love you,
but in this,
you are wrong.

i love you,
but you should
lean into me,
not push me
away.