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Poem

“You love him so much, you're too blind to see
He's only playing a game
He's never loved you, he never will
And darling, don't you know he' ll never change?”  Elvis Presley - It Hurts Me 

I do not expect you to love him as I do,
Seeing from the outside as you should
With a fresh mind, clear from the lies,
Logic dominating what you see as senselessness

I am pained by every weakness you recite
Against his fragile, inelastic soul,
How painful it should be to take away his control
Over the last thing he claims as his:
I

You rest assured I will be broken in the end
True might it be, cease not to wait in worry
I break in the talons fully aware of his ire,
His need to devour this swaying flower

I can hear the cynical thoughts already,
Stretching for the race to my heart,
Comforting me in coos,
Dreading the moment I turn to fools

Your eager heart comforts me little as I replenish
This space I request is lost in your lectures
Your eyes that have once burned with anger,
Are relieved with validation of your foreshadows

Do not rest your hands on my back,
As I crumple over, my eyes trailing his departure
Do not comfort me with those “I-told-you-so” touches
I know it—I have always,
And with your logic,
You cannot even dream to comprehend
The true density of this reality

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