Honeyed sweetness threads,
an ebbing tide of compassion
till I can barely stand the love,
overflowing, spilling, and swelling.
But don't mistake my softness for license
to lay me out like a welcome mat.
Scrape your cowboy boots over my face,
and burden me with your self-discontent.
If you need to say it, then say it.
But don't expect demure, baby pink silence in response.
You collect hearts and toss them
like empty Coke cans.
You anticipate the same from me.
I don't think about you
except when I see you
then I just feel awkward, he said.
Claws itch through the pads in my hands,
and I will shred you to smithereens.
You won't forget me.
