Down the Rabbit Hole

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?

I’d Prefer

If you did not speak to me,
or rather that I would not
cease to spin with the rest of
the world, focused solely on you
when we are talking.

The seemingly shared dream that
seemed so solid, truth has
broken all reality in the illusion,
shattering my faith once more.

One true friend of virtue,
a best friend, I had hoped one
in particular, but I will settle
because I cannot stare down
my soul in solitude.

A singular understanding,
that I may know completely,
safe from stumbling on
confusion, become enlightened
once more.

Always love to hatred, admitting I
was wrong, and how I would
submit to anything, so long
as I could just have something

A Well-Remembered Lesson from Kasey

She said
I want to show you something.
She took two pieces of red construction paper, a pair of safety scissors, and a glue stick,
and handed me one of the pages.
Make a heart,
she told me.
I traced the familiar shape with my
pencil, happily.
She handed me the scissors after she cut her own heart
from the paper.
Now rip it,
she said,
right down the middle.
We both tore the paper.
Then she said to glue them back.
When they were together,
she instructed to rip them again.
We repeated the process for
a few minutes.
She said– as we destroyed reconstructed paper hearts,
Increasingly harder to get the pieces to tear, and glue sticking paper
to my fingers and my palms–
each time we get hurt,
our hearts scar.
Each time it gets harder to open up,
but the brightside is you stop being
so vunerable.

I wish I could still be vunerable for you,  that I could freely learn to
let my walls crumble away,
thorns subside,
Or having courage to admit that I had let my feelings for you overcome me.
A fall from a dizzying height.
Dropped from the sun,
dizzy on my love,
wax dripping,
too warm to fly.
Lesson learned.

Still, I yearn to let you get that close to me.