then poses the question
was my crime loving you?
if not that, what was my crime?
like spit in the eye, the fists in my cheek
are the the hands you hold
and i am rotting in our old home
the putrid hatred against me
is the warmth you embrace
nonetheless
i never desired to rip you from your warmth
something inside me screams
i wish i was enough
to be loved by you
the way my love for you murders me
each and every morning
and each and every night
your silence has a chokehold
i am not hiding from you
why do we crave the things that bring us burning in our chest?
because we were children once
and you spared me from death
what is my punishment?
love
and love again
love is my abuser
and i cannot seem to rid myself of its chains
because upon your very call
i would be at your porch
with a dripping heart in my hand
so poses the question
what was my crime?
asking for you to love me.
