Tree painted with red roots
bleeding into deep browns
rooted in blood.
Can red symbolize anything besides blood?
Your blood is in my roots.
But water, and not blood, came from your side.
A broken body
mine is too.
painted into the ground, up the trunk.
Climbing the pole, hugging it, hoisting myself up.
Feeling so young in my age.
Clouds that went in different directions
Not seeing you.
A dove flying away
My reaction is fear and anxiety.
Wanting to be near and know for real who you are…to me,
How you and me intersect.
Grabbing but not grasping.
Doubts push me
Back hurting, throat scratching, pride whimpering.
I am not so tough.
Petrified of making…messing…missing…the mark.
I am not a straight shooter, nor
My idol is my image of myself.
I give myself away with no discretion.
And find myself to be
Again. Empty without knowing, I wait for You.
Why do I offer myself to everyone who comes near me?
I am willing to sacrifice you, and what you’ve done, to them.
To people who can never hope to love me like you do.
You would think that blood would be enough.