He’s always been the lost one.
I told him I could no longer
carry him and his woes
When he couldn’t begin to understand mine.
I said “my shoulders are pressed low
with my own heaviness and any thing more
will crush me.”
He said “pity. Your compassion was always your best quality.”
I said “I am not a bottomless well of compassion
that you can come to get sweet, cool relief
from the acrid heat of your troubles.”
He said “you’ve become bitter.”
My mouth full of scorpions,
I said “you cannot use the words that describe poison
to describe honey. And my skin is too soft
to be described like leather.”
(treated like glass)
I said “do not mistake my kindness for weakness.”
He was asking me to give
until all I had to offer were ashes
and handfuls of dust.
I cannot give until I am barren.
So I caught a ride on a wave
that welled up inside me
and I drew power from the storm
that brought me here in the first place
and I said “no.”
I said “no” to your mechanical fingers that
move greedy to reach into
my softest parts
and steal away my lushness.
I am generous with love
but I will not be the oasis
that your thirstiness destroys,
in the desert
you have made yourself.