2nd part to, "Can I give you something?"
I always knew,
In some twisted way it was you.
By then we had come twisted into.
I started giving part of me,
And you slowly gave an inch of you.
An inch or two from you,
That was enough for me,
And yards of me,
That became too much for you.
You were making fine silk garments,
And beautiful cashmere sweaters,
From what I gave to you.
But you made nothing worth saving you.
Like the way I did,
With the inch you gave me.
It was enough for me,
To make a fine little handkerchief to use.
You had too much to work with,
And had no idea how to use it.
I worked with what I was given.
And made a beautiful little piece of you,
To keep with me.
And soon you gave an inch,
And then another two.
Soon I made a beautiful wool blanket,
Of you.
To protect me from the cold that comes,
From the hearts of those in this world.
You continued to make fine garments.
Garments that had no use.
Until I directed you,
On how to use the part of me,
I'd chosen to give to you.
And soon,
Very soon,
You'd made glasses.
You'd made a hearing aid.
You accepted me all of me into you.
You saw yourself,
Clearly.
Fully.
You finally heard the testimonies,
That surrounded you.
You allowed me in to fill you,
With what you filled into me.
And in some way I knew.
No matter how twisted we could be.
We would never be untwisted into two.
YOU ARE READING
She.
PoetryPoetry, scenes and short stories written from the fingertips of a girl who doesn't know her own heart. She's filled each corner with love and light that she thought was pure just to watch it rot off and fill like a gaping dark hole. But these heartb...
