On Whose Love I Depend

I used to love you with a reckless, trusting love.

Until you said that thing that made the steel containment doors of my heart come crashing down.

Now I am on the INSIDE and you are on the OUTSIDE.

“Try to pry them open with a crowbar!”

I hear your muffled voice.

You think I have a crowbar in my heart?

In a similar but opposite way

The birds outside my skylight wake me every morning with their song.

They are OUTSIDE and I am INSIDE.

But they know nothing of metal fear and conditional love.

They are not waiting for me to lose ten pounds or start dressing stylishly.

They neither sow nor reap.

But the things they can pry open with their tiny beaks would astound you.

I get up and go outside almost every day.


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