the edges of myself

There are moments when i’m with you–

a smile refusing to release its hold on

the edges of my mouth– my heart

soaring with what can only be my

deepening devotion– when i’m overcome

by the increasing power you hold over me–

though you’ve asked for nothing.

 

I listen to your careful soliloquies

on commitment– knowing the words

before they escape your lips– understanding

the devotion of which you speak– because

it is the only function of love my heart acknowledges.

 

You say no to me over and over again.

I appreciate the solidity of your words–

am grateful to have them to press up against,

but find them piercing.

 

As I continue walking this darkened tunnel–

your words become more biting–

their harshness and tone the same–

but my sensitivity and susceptibility to them

heightened– the darkness becoming its own

sensory deprivation– making my nerves raw,

my edges sharper.

 

i’m carving through this darkening, deafening

space with a razor sharpness I’m unaccustomed to–

allowing for the realization that my heart must

sever from the rest of my being–

i must tumble through this darkness and cut

my way out– slash through the black,

acknowledge that only I can invite in the light–

create a finite space.

 

It frightens me– what I’d do for you.

But right now, I must do

for myself.