Only On Your Terms

You came to me with arms open, cathedrals of hope enclosing me in their warm embrace, when you thought it was a necessity to keep me still. You came to me, love-bound, with strings of hearts balanced perfectly on your tongue when you thought it was something I needed to see in order to make me stay. You came to me, admission-less, when my legs were spread, my tongue was ready, my head was back, and yes formed easy in the back of my throat. But, when I was nothing more than a fetal position, crawling on bathroom floors, screaming for what was lost, when I was stained with grief, and I began to stumble, yearly, through gardens of tears, you were a sun turned cold, burning me with your absence of light.