lightly & DEEPLY

What else can I do to love you?

Is my heartbeat echoing yours not loud enough to silence your indifference?

I am eve— giving you rib after rib to secure your own heart— mine left wide open for the wolves of this world.

You said you were cold and handed me a match 

So I set myself ablaze to keep you warm. 

How was my burning not enough?

I cannot water the desert of your soul with tears of my longing. 

I cannot remove your hands from around my throat by holding them. 

My fingers are so entwined with yours that I no longer know who is stealing my air. 

 

What else can I do to keep you? 

Are my feet not bloody enough from running through the glass of your broken promises?

If I lived on my knees, would it convince you?

I have forgotten how to pronounce my own name, for I am fluent in the holding of my tongue.

 

What else can I do to show you my pain?

Were the thorns in my side not deep enough?

My breath is short but constant. Did I need to shatter entirely for you to hold my pieces?
why could you not love me whole?

 

What else can I do to unlearn you?

Can I gather my pieces into something new— like stained glass, can I allow my jagged pieces refract light after the long night of you?

 

I will pour out what was poured into me. 

I will mold the clay to fit my lungs until some ancient verberations in me create a calming hum to sleep to. 

I will follow the wind into some unknown valley of myself 

until the breezes teach me how to pronounce my name once more. 

I will stand in the midst of the wolves, unafraid, until I return 

Leading the pack