I'll let your silence fulminate,
all the things you've already said,
and leave for the dust;
accepting what is
as reality.
Still,
you stick to my bones,
I can't just shake you off.
And two things can be true at once;
no one truth holds more power.
Reverence is remedy
but needs to cut both ways.
We can't take turns enduring.
A thousand smalls cuts divided
is still too many.
All the blood we're spilling is old,
a deeper crimson,
in need of release.
Gut-wrenching love:
a painful devotion.
I won't cause you any more suffering.
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