Lifeline
I used to believe that love
was in the way you made me feel
on the best of days: the days my heart
was the feathered wings of a hummingbird
beating so fast, I no longer touched the ground—
the days you took me up to where the
stars were so close, I could pocket them.
I used to believe that love was
measured simply by
the days you brought me the stars,
not by the nights when the stars
exploded in a ball of purple plasma in my fingertips
and burned me, with only a string of
“I love you”s as the fire died away
See, fire is a double-edged sword and while
it burns a bright and brilliant bonfire,
it also consumes.
You were the lantern, and I the firefly—
my desire and my naiveté left me in ashes.
But I am not naïve anymore.
You cannot say that I need you,
as if my whole life before you
was not living. You cannot pretend you
are the house to shelter me in the storm
when rather, you are the storm,
and my resolve is the roof.
I am my own hero in this fairy tale.
You cannot cling to me as if I am your lifeline—as if
I am the only thing filling
your lungs with air.
People are not oxygen, and
you cannot breathe me in,
even if it’s the only way to keep me
close to your heart, and
all to yourself.
You cannot "love" me anymore,
Because if this is love, I do not want it.
I do not want your breath
Down my back as you monitor my every step
But then blame it on the breeze.
I do not want your lips
Near enough for you to feed me
the lies I wish to chew on.
I do not want to play the part
In your twisted drama
That you have chosen for me
Again and again.
I do not want to be “yours” anymore
So do not tell me you
Love me
one last time
So you can give me
Another excuse to stay.
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