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.
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