Oxymoron
I wanted to write of the raw caustic tears corroding me apart,
Of the screams inside piercing nails through my shredded heart
Sobbing in unadulterated, wild, feral grief
Of every time you burned the inside of my eyes with your rejection
There could be no greater pain.
I want to write of my love, patience, even need
Needing only your love and acceptance,
please.
I have learnt and grown beyond your years
and dearly wish to teach,
to touch and share this soft joy
and pulsing, gentle peace
It is possible in our life to love with safety, to be safe in love
to embrace who you are fully and watch you blossom
I hear your beauty and often quietly watch the child within you peek
outside
and smile
to be free
to believe
and live the hope that you feel
and still be safe.
it is okay.
Yet still my heart lies completely blackened with so many scars
It was never about me loving any other person but you.
And still…
…and still
You feel to fight against even the purest of adoration.
There is only one love that would continuously endure
A lifetime of neglect and refusal.
There is only one intenseness of pain
To which a person could live through
Who could be so functionally crippled
Yet be so intolerantly accepted,
un-welcomed.