here is love, laid out like a picnic blanket on a summer day:
it is putting all of your parts, all the puzzle pieces that make you up
into the cupped hands of someone else
praying that no matter the weather, they don’t drop them
and here is the truth about love:
you are fierce over everyone but yourself
how many times have you bared your teeth and flashed your claws
for someone who didn’t deserve it?
and how often have you let others rub salt into that painted red wound of a mouth
when i know you are itching to speak your mind
spitting out biting words like hot coals?
i myself am meek
i do not have the heart to draw a knife on anyone but myself
or to kiss another man’s girl, no matter what you have been told
but i believe that i could be courageous for you
inspired by rumors and on/off relationships and wanting you since last october. i know you said that you don’t want to be anything like your mother, but darling, between the neglect and the haircut, i see no difference.