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.