I can only shrink away, the closer he pulls me.
The tighter his grasp. The less I wish I meant to him.
The more I have to let go.
Inside I'm conflicted. I want to settle it down.
I see the monster that I am.
He has to work so hard.
When the problem is with me.
When I expect too much.
Do I expect too much?
I stand motionless in the kitchen,
Watching the tree outside the window.
The wind twists it's branches,
I'm tired of bending this way.
I have to be so careful.
He has to be so careful.
Treading upon toes.
Surely that means, it doesn't work?
That it's only a matter of time,
A matter of communication.
"It's so funny"...
"how we don't talk any more"...
Tired of being a child,
Always making mistakes.
I can feel myself; breathing disappointment
Into his lungs.
Those annoyed sighs.
Those little shakes of his head.
Is this precious thing fixable;
If only I think it's broken?
I picture him here, alone.
I convince myself,
I'm making something out of nothing.
Nothing, out of something worth holding on to.