Built Like An Oak

Loving what you shouldn't,

Secrets we try to keep:

A "canceled" artist,

Schadenfreude,

Harmful people... Or maybe just that one.

***

Refrain–both looming imperative and tired bore.

Refrains from my life, like samsaric cycles, and

Refraining, not from the love but the ritual abuse of it all.

Plant and keep your sacred love,

But learn how to speak, because it's all he ever does.

***

He says

"I don't care that you're gay, I just wish you weren't so obvious about it,"

As he attempts to burgle my dignity.

Words he says his mother said, but that he

Happens to agree with.

***

He says

"Your personality dragged me in kicking and screaming long before your body ever did,"

As he licks his chops.

Words he says in earnest,

As if they might woo me.

***

He says

"She'll have an omelette with egg whites and spinach,"

As he musters his arrogance at my expense.

Words he says, "to help you." He says,

But I don't believe him.

***

He says

"I'm lost,"

As he counts unforgiving years and measures the chasm where our intimacy once was.

Words he says to me because he knows

He is where I used to be.

***

A formative first love, for better or worse, who can still (and always)

Come to me.

For the roots I've planted can hold him,

And the leaves I've bloomed can shelter.

But my bark has thickened with time, and my tongue is sharper.