Denial

My love is your burden.

You leave me hurting quite often,

but I deny it.

My heart is yours to break.

I am your mistake, it seems;

but you deny it.

Why pretend to tolerate me?

And then, why berate me?

Why make me cry —

why initiate a fight

that I didn’t want to have —

Is it worth it to be right?

Here I am in tears,

living in fear of losing you.

But in choosing you,

I knew.

Your damaged heart

had been through

more than my love could repair,

your eyes filled with despair —

and anger,

so much anger,

everything that screamed danger,

but I denied it.

Here I am, grieving every hug

that you were bugged

to give begrudgingly —

the love, I begged for desperately.

The sadness I can’t shake,

I was yours to take —

All the while, the smiles you faked

to appease me —

why try to please me?

Maybe I’m just another love

for you to shove away.

When you have nothing to say,

don’t you think I can see

your annoyance with me?

Simply because I try to know you,

doesn’t mean I judge you.

Again, I don’t begrudge you

for being different,

for being deep and passionate

even the verbal lashing that

you give me when upset,

I can forget,

if you’d just let me.

Please, don’t regret me.

Even now, when you’ve upset me,

I only long for you to be nearer —

for things to be clearer.

Be gentle with me,

don’t resent who I am,

can’t you see? I’m not you.

I can’t be you,

I can’t be her.

You can’t displace your hurt,

like her punishment deferred.

Every angry word you blurt

is like a slap in the face,

you can never erase.

And no, I still can’t be them,

the people who wronged you.

All I am is the girl who longs for you,

whose heart belongs to you.

I can only be this silly,

laughing girl that I thought

you might love —

I asked and you said —

“absolutely.”

I believed you,

now destitute-ly

I prepare myself

for the heartache.

for god’s sake, if I believed,

maybe I’d find reprieve

for the ways I have harmed.

Would you willingly disarm yourself

of your natural defenses

if your senses told you to trust me?

I just wonder how much longer —

will our blunders make us stronger?

Won’t they just drive a wedge between us

until one of us steps off the ledge?

Of all the people I could wake to

on this pale blue dot, I’d choose you.

Like Sagan, we can make

apple pie from scratch.

Two pagans, in the universe

we create together — a match

who make the world better.

If you just let me love you,

and stop claiming to be

the “emotionless robot”

that we both know you’re not.