split

i could have your hands and feet
 like a puppet, under my control.
i could own your soul
 like the moon owns the waves.
 i could have you on an operating table
 with your chest cracked open,
 heart inside out.
brains extracted
 and placed on display
 in a mason jar at my desk.
do you feel like escargot,
like a snail robbed of its shell
about to hit the frying pan?

i wonder if your zen is really just a shocked numbness,
an inability to process,
as the earth shakes below us,
 cracking open,
and we are split apart by a giant chasm.

My heart is a minefield with no map.

my rage is a beast kept locked in chains,
yet he always escapes.

we split.
and I can only feel you if I close my eyes.

i couldn't understand
when she told me what she saw
and how she did nothing

because it seemed so selfish
so cold
so wrong

but now i realize
it wasn't a decision for her
it was survival

now i understand survival
what it's like to be vulnerable
what it's like to need
at any cost

and even though it was selfish
cold
and wrong
i understand now.
i do.

it's not ok.
but i get it.