Kindred

May 5, 2010 at 10:41 pm (Uncategorized)

Knocking on  your door,
I hear you tell me to come in,
but I let you get up anyway.

There are keys to drop off,
armor to retrieve.
 
You ask if I want to hit you,
kick you in the stones
and I say no, but you close
your eyes, and flinch,
as if you really believe that I will,
or really believe that
you deserve it.
 
‘Can’t help how you feel,’
I say,
because it’s true;
I would know,
your shoes are familiar.
 
Sunday was your terrible day
according to Shower You.
When I inquired, you played dumb.
Was it a slip of the Freudian kind,
or a message to me?
Doesn’t matter now, but I wonder.
 
I believe the words that ultimately emerged,
without analysis or twisting.
A testament to trust.
An odd comfort
that was hard to find at times,
but at that moment, existed without question.
 
So maybe we’re a little more
track fourteen than seven,
more ‘grab a beer’ than ‘hold my earrings’
but in the end,
what we have
matters more
than what we don’t.
 
Thank you
for giving me hope that
one day I will have
hope again.
For helping me remember
that armor is removable.
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