the edges of myself

words, words, words

all of the songs ever written– they don’t speak

of a love like ours– at the base

its unquestioned solidity– a dependable knowledge

of what is–

certain beyond a doubt–

nothing meaningless is possible.

i revel in it– enjoy its eb and flow

make time and space

for it to exist


but my heart–

it feels the edges of this glass jar–

sees easily outside of it– but presses against the hard,

cold shape it’s been forced into–

each beat feeling slightly more oppressive

than the one before.

it yearns to allow an expanse and freedom

to spread through it and around it–

stretch its wings, soar.


there are times i believe this exercise

in self control is good–

and i know it is allowing for


that could not exist without it–

but at others i find myself questioning

my strength and resolve.


i do not for a moment doubt our love–

only my ability to play this role within it.

i’m not sure i’m big enough

and my heart cannot handle the confinement.

2 thoughts on “the hard, cold shape

  1. Cubby says:

    Loved this. 🙂

    1. mandycregan says:

      thank you, lovely one. 😉

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