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