There's something about loving two broken men in a row
that really brings a girl down.

Twice I wanted to be the savior,
the angel whispering sweet nothings,
the candle flame in a dark cave.

Twice that flame was snuffed out,
without even a faint spark remaining.

Twice we were over,
twice they collapsed in on themselves,
and twice they tried to pull me down with them.
And thus twice something shot up from within me.
A wall, a barrier, a shield, a protective layer.

It's gentle, it doesn't suffocate me
and yet
its presence is nearly tangible.

I felt its presence most when I met another man.
An old soul like me, so kind, so tender.
An emotionally mature, self aware adult.

9 months we tried to carry this relationship to term,
and yet I could never bring myself to bear love for you.

9 months I watched you from within this cocoon around my heart.
Hoping, wanting, waiting, for another spark of passion.
But you were too scared of rejection to be that vulnerable
to play your hand, put it all out on the line.
And I'm so sorry but I just didn't have it
that kind of vulnerability
in me a third time.

You saw my Walls and you acknowledged their presence.
You understood why I had them, you could tell I was healing.
To you they were stone - rigid and solid between us.
In moments for me they were cellophone, so amiable and flimsy if only they had been tried.
And so the cocoon remained, just that, a cocoon.
And we sunk into a routine of comfort, niceties, and small gifts.
A pandemic pod of a relationship in this lonely world.

I will always have nothing but fondness for you.
Thank you for lifting me up, for treating me right,
and making me feel desirable over and over again.

For the next year I will sit in solitude,
no one's savior or angel, and I'm okay with that.
I'll make peace with the cave,
and wait to light the candle in some other dream.