The Fences I Called Love

You slam the door

I count to ten

then I count to ten again

because ten wasn't enough

to unclench my jaw

Chewed-up words in my mouth again

but this time I swallow most of them

and wonder

if swallowing them

is its own kind of violence

You think I like being this cold

I used to say no

now I'm not sure

maybe I do

maybe cold is safe

maybe cold is the only temperature

I learned to hold

My hands shake every time I hold the line

but here's what I don't say:

they shake because I want to cross it

every single time

This is hard love

or maybe just hardness

pretending to be love

Heavy heart

or maybe a heart

that confuses weight

with worth

Tearing me in two just to do my part

but what if my part

was never yours to assign?

You only see the fences

not the fall

but maybe the fences are the fall

maybe I built them

and called it care

I break myself to build you tall

but you never asked to be tall

you asked to be held

and I didn't know the difference

Hard love

hurts us both

but I won't let you crawl …

or maybe I won't let you crawl

because if you crawl away

I'll have to face

why I needed you small

You throw my name like a sharpened stone

and for the first time

I don't dodge it

I catch it

and look at the edges

Say I'm just trying to control

I used to call that a lie

now I turn it over in my hands

and it fits

like a key

to a door I said didn't exist

If you could see the nights I pace

wearing paths in the floor

with your name on my face

you'd see not devotion

you'd see a person

who doesn't know how to stop

because stopping would mean

listening to the silence

and the silence might say: “ you were the storm

and you blamed the rain”

This is hard love

or maybe just fear

with a good vocabulary

Heavy heart

or maybe just a heart

afraid of being light

Tearing me in two just to do my part

but what if my part was done

three fights ago

and I just didn't want to stop?

You only see the fences

not the fall

but fences don't protect

when you're locked inside with the wolf

and the wolf is me

I break myself to build you tall

but breaking myself

isn't architecture

it's just bleeding

and calling it blueprints

Hard love

hurts us both

but I won't let you crawl …

unless crawling

is the first step

toward walking away from me

and maybe

that's what love

was supposed to look like

all along

One day you'll stand where I stand now.

That's what I used to tell myself.

But lately I've been wondering:

what if you stand where you stand now

and I stand where I stand now

and the distance between us

isn't a failure

it's just the truth?

Every raised voice

every slammed door

I told myself they were love

trying harder.

But love trying harder

doesn't sound like that.

Love trying harder

sounds like: “ I was wrong.

I was so wrong.

And I'm sorry I made you carry my fear

and called it care.”

This isn't hard love.

It's just hard.

And I put love on the label

so I wouldn't have to read

the ingredients.

Heavy heart.

Yes.

But heavy isn't deep.

Sometimes heavy is just

refusing to put something down.

I break myself to build you tall.

But you were already tall.

I just kept chopping you down

to my height

and calling it protection.

You only see the fences now.

But one day

I hope you see

that the fences were me

trying to draw a border

around a garden

that was never mine to own.

Hard love?

No.

Hard lesson:

If I didn't care

I would have fought differently.

I would have fought less.

I would have listened more.

I would have stopped

the first time you cried

and asked: “ am I the reason?”

I won't let you crawl. …

I won't have to.

You'll walk.

And I'll watch you go.

And for the first time

I'll call that love.