I can’t support what you love,
and you can’t support your
claims to love me.
It’s like falling
forever, falling asleep
while falling, and waking up
still set toward nadir,
place of darkness
I so often inhabit.
It’s such a long journey,
I thought you might
try to catch me, break my
descent–you didn’t.
You pushed me away.
I needed you to pull me
from the pit,
and, for a fleeting moment,
seemed you might, but then
your lover called you, you
forgot your vows, and
I watched your face,
that I had seen
so many times above
my own,
shrink into nothingness,
and fade out of view.
How I longed for you to
love me,
and I loved you so much
more than
I could even love myself,
and you took my affections
and twisted it,
some monster.
I felt the dull knife break
between the columns
of my bleak spine,
painful separation,
yet somehow
somewhat expected.
And though my ego took a dive,
you should know, the betrayal never
hurt as bad as realizing that
the fantasies were better
than our reality ever was.
I wonder back to that
character who looked at
his family and wondered
at what point he would have
to forsake his family,
and look to himself for survival.
At what point
do I save myself?
At what point
do I grow?
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