If you left now, the pieces would go…everywhere. After years of refusing to lean on anyone for too long, you’ve refused to let go, even when I’m pushing at you with the blunt end of a knife, the sharp end pointed towards me.
I worry sometimes if, without you, my sanity would cling. I worry more if, with you, my insanity will grow and overtake you.
Strong hands and I caress the tender blue rivers crisscrossing your skin. Gentle eyes that burn low but intense. During those times when the banality of my life excruciates me, your touch reminds me who I am.
I am we.