if you wanted the sky,
clouds, overwhelming blue,
i would harness it
and give it to you.
if you wanted the sun,
self-perpetuating, vast ball of flame,
i would gather it
and give it to you.
if you wanted my heart,
the thing that keeps me alive, ****** fist,
i would rip it out of my chest
and give it to you
wrapped up
with a bow.

all of these things i would give,
without resignation about
how life would be
for others
without a sky,
without a sun to keep them warm...
or how i would function
without my heart.

[with my heart
in your greedy
hands.]

you would take all of this from me,
without shame, without guilt,
selfishly and ignorantly,
believing that i’ve given
all of this to you
because you are
somehow
entitled
to it.

but i won’t blame you for
accepting my gifts.
after all, i am the one
who now gives them to you.

i am the one who rips the sun
out of the sky,
who then takes that sky
scoops it into a bucket
and delivers it to you
without a second thought.

i am the reason why my chest is
completely open,
why i am bleeding out now.
i am the one who granted you
my heart.

i cannot condemn you for taking it.