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Accounting for Everything: A Hard Man Is Hard To Leave
How do you gauge a man?
I have lost my barometer. I can feel pressure but I am clueless how much of it is sitting on my shoulders. Pressing against my neck, popping my ears.
He is setting me free and I am the baby bird too afraid to leave. It's not fair. Why can't I just stay here and make him love me? Make him be the man I need?
He smiles and speaks his acidic truth. Burning holes in my heart. Like worn socks with the toes sticking through, my love is poking out, exposed and frost-bitten.
He means well. He means so well. But he's finished. He's gone as far as he can go.
This bird will fly alone forever. I want no one but him. Everyone else will seem hollow and thin. He has heart and pain and virtue to fill him up and I just want to love it all out of him.
How can you make someone so happy who can then in turn make you so unsatisfied and alone?
I am so empty now. I am running on fumes and he won't take the wheel. And the stereo is stuck on Red House Painters "Have You Forgotten".
This entry is my heart on my sleeve. Pinned to my cuff, piece by piece. Maybe someone can make sense of it. Because I'm too tired.
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