The Fuel
so we sought to reap, to keep,
and yet we found nothing
sprouting from the everything we planted
undeniably, it's ill fate
we still hesitate with supposed good reason
but i find myself craving the mistake
i would not bid you good riddance ever,
though you shove me off a thousand red cliffs,
i rather plead your staying here,
folded under the refuge of this mother willow
where i can watch you sleep, lost in distant dreams
cherishing this last moment
before the path's fork breaks,
i sob out for simplicity that i am unfamiliar with
i discover the awkwardness of being close to you
to be oddly comforting,
though a foil to my womanly independence
i grudgingly release you,
recalling days when you'd feared this moment
my breath catches, knotting
slipping loose the noose,
yet tightening my exhalation
so much time, so much given
so much spent only to vanish
it feels all wasted and dry, like old letters
i am calculating the numbers,
the cash, the blood, and the hours,
and i see i received no profits from the deal –
perhaps it's better this way? -
but i feel emptier now that it's off
now i sit with crumpled notes in my hands,
holding cut strings, an unfinished puzzle,
which i never will complete
i cannot understand why you refuse to finish it with me,
though i've explained it to myself
the chords make webs across the marble floor,
along the fabric over my legs,
the snares which i tangled myself in by chance,
which fed hungrily on me
until the bones within crumbled
and the lonely poison lingers here,
still working like acid
life is merciless
what to expect?
you were tangled, too
and you're sorry for it all
i'm regretless of what's been,
all that anger and rusted red,
and hardly bitter about what you took
i can shed it all, and become nothing
and all that matters
is that i'm still something to you
that's the fuel
