I have given up on us

because you gave up on us

before I ever came along.

 

You saw in me some hope

that maybe you were wrong

perhaps the human race could be redeemed

if just one

would take the time

to notice and care

that you are.

 

But I was not that one for you,

the one to see wealth

where you have it

rather than long to be fed

what is not yours to provide.

 

It breaks my heart to know

that I can’t fix yours.

I step into your absent space

and here I am without you

where I can only see you

as my fixer-upper.

 

I am afraid to be your only love

it feels too much to ask of me

to love you when you’ve never loved another.

Can you tell me why

you never cry

when I try to hurt you?

Can you tell me why you only cry

when I tell you that I want you?

 

But I can’t find you.

I had given up on me

before you ever came along.

 

I saw in you my last dark hope

that I could share myself

without running out

until our dying day.

We would never end

telling stories of now,

and then,

and why we never want this one to end.

We would look outside

in each other’s eyes

and see inside

through each other’s eyes.

It’s those parts under your skin

your mind

your heart

too weak for faith that I might care

and know you as you are.

 

And yet, you hope,

it lingers there,

ringed finger glow reflects,

where we grow hope

that’s positive;

so water it.

 

Rich warm compost hope emerges

from and for lost faith that love could be for us

to share

and from such diverse synergy

grow love for all who come to wear

our radiant worn-out rug.