I watch the scale of words tip towards me
Your words remain free
Words gathered at the base of my throat, sunk in a pit
The strength of the pull forced to submitI used to believe it was my own doing
Searched for wisdom still queuing
You stay unmoving
Thoughts on my ruiningYou create the space for vulnerability
And and my past receives your scrutiny
I watch helpless
Believing this is of differing likenessOnce more, my old lovers resurface
And you reluctantly deter us
But your old lovers' hearts ricochet
With all of the tender words you sayThe truth lies here in my soul
Once assumed to be fused with yours as whole
You were my person way before I was yours
You may have said it first but it was me who curesYou wished for me
I yearned for you
To you it could've been anyone
To me it could've only been you
————-About: Coming to the realization that your fear of always being someone who views love as a soul changing experience in the face of their lover, is true. I love him more.
YOU ARE READING
Talking Tree (Ongoing)
PoetryOne time I was listening to a lecture by a wise man who told me that if I had no one to talk to I should talk to a tree. So here I am.