I have to throw up walls...
I have to refuse...
I wish I didn't have to,
But that's not possible;
At least not with you.

I love you and I've learned.
I can't give you everything.
Or you would just use me up.
The frustrating part?
You're unaware. Or your not listening.
It's the same either way.
It's for my own good
And yours too

Your reaction confirms I'm doing the right thing
Or you'd never respect my answer
(not that you really do now)
but I respect myself enough to say it.

I've been too lenient with you.
A realization that comes too late.
Like a mother and her child
Realizing her mistake during the tantrum.
The realization comes with the knowledge that you present understanding until met with opposition.
Contradictory texts and I now realize, painfully, you knew it was a big ask

....you just weren't expecting me to say no....

You don't respect my time. That much is clear. I just wish I realized it sooner.

that deadened fingernail
first damaged long ago
not quite a lifetime but
time enough
          to feel that way
is showing signs of regrowth
partially shrouded but visible
beneath the lingering ruin
the fingertip was caught
ensnared and pressed
more firmly than
          could be endured
though care was provided
the bruising ran deep
and undermined any chance
of this body's repair
unexpectedly
          and unimaginable
in spite of this layer
of lamented keratin
there stretched forth
a sudden burgeoning
a crescent of cuticle
          and lunula
telling of the strength
of the fingernail to come

Something has been eating me alive
and it's coming from within
when did it truly begin
when did it start eating away
what's the cause of this decay
my insides are in disarray
out of place
some things missing
slowly filling with the void
an empty replacement
fulling with darkness
it won't stop spreading
is it truly from within
or did you infect me
pierce me with your toxin
to slowly eat away
making me useless
so I can't fight your words
your toxic hate
breaking me down
piece by piece
destroying who I was
and what I could be
but your gone
I have begun to heal
but it's hard to replace what you've taken
what you destroyed
sometimes I can still taste your poison
I know ill never forget
what you did
the pain I felt
but I can be better
I WILL be better
I can make it out alive
I can heal
no matter how hard you tried
I'm still alive

the gift in a dilapidated
two-story country home
empty
for miles
through holes in the walls
on either side
blackened supports
and ramshackle comfort
tackled by fire
caressed by rain
you can see through to the second floor
if you tilt your head,
expose blood subways,
let your hair
grasp at spine
the fault of past residents
mirrored in big blue eyes
a world of green and brown
surrounding, no,
growing from
this pin-***** destination
left to the wind,
to the quiet
the underscored call
of persons,
stronger than I,
who knew they were finished
and walked away.
who saw the green and the brown,
and looked at the home,
once warm, I'm sure,
and thought,
"there's so little here,
compressed,
with an expanse beyond
so much friendlier than
brittle walls,
tender floors,
metal and wood."

so they left

and rightfully so.

Remember, one Summer,
street was closed for construction
We'd careen through the roads
near each other's homes.
Wheeling through dreams on our bikes
in the swelter
we'd reach for the sky 'neath the cottonwoods'
dome.

Some nights, I still walk through those
baseball glove hours--
those sweat-smelling days
                                       and
those Kool-Aid stain weeks.
And I can still feel that
pubescent laughter
which lived in my chest
                                       and
still pounds for release.

I've leased some apartments
and filed my taxes.
I've broken some promises
                                        and
           I've been destroyed
And I've been rebuilt, but never rebranded
                            Those
                Summer time sunsets
               tattooed on my sinews,
              they just wouldn't have it.