Love For Myself
Warm pile
Good pile
All the love I had for me.
Simple start.
One piece in his hand
I gripped the edges of it,
worried for it to go away
“One bit won’t hurt”
He smiled politely.
“This tiny piece?”
You’ll still have a heap!”
Nodded assent
Still warm in me
Still happy.
Until more pieces
One by one.
“One part
gone can’t change
a pile”
Each fell
His voice still ringing.
It was cold
and I pretended I was a mountain
But the ice only pierced.
Last shard he reached and pressed
“only one more left”
I pleaded
“One away can’t change
anything” Such grins
Forgot to reassure
and I did not even
need to run
I disappeared in seconds.
One love in my
hand beating left.
I kissed gently.
The warm pulse
curved, remembering
The hill of its lost brethren.
“we are not much”
I say.
“scraps of the past”
Throbs but no ache
for my arms.
“they said we should be
third but sometimes I think
they were wrong”
Little blob
Thundering in assent.
