imbalance.

there is an imbalance between us
that I cannot define.
I squirm inside my words to you,
watching while you retract the context of my prose.
i cannot impetrate you for your love,
though sometimes I think you’d have me beg …
I am not strong enough to weather your dispositions,
always changing in the wind.
I do not know where I stand with you.
I spoil with confusion.
I rot with your indecision.
I am an infection,
poisoning my own blood with fabrications I tell to keep myself sane.
I pretend I am made of sanity.
I forfeit the passion inside my heart,
instead, expounding energy,
trying to patch up holes from baggage that has left a mess inside your soul.
I’m not certain I can weather you,
and yet still be strong as night.

photo by: Esther Ritz