personal crap / poetry / progress / self care

The Artist

Meet me at the place
where your love
for yourself
slightly outweighs
your love for
your family
and me
for sour and spicy things
for drawing
and ways to escape

Meet me
with eyes
and no words
where we know that
we’re heard
honestly
without shame
this is not
a fucking game
but the ball
is fully
in your court
and I can’t afford
to play
with a healing heart

Meet me dead center
with things that you say
and do
Not with pictures you paint
as truth
all my heart wants
is you
but
you asked for my trust
yours part substituted
for lust
and I love me
and you
more than enough
to draw a line
though you’re
The Artist

Until I’m met
with congruency
you’ll get my truancy
from this
with my best
and a kiss while I go
I adore you
and so
I can’t stay
no matter
what breaks
for us both
in the process
or what it takes
to heal

So please
please
please
meet me
in priorities
integrity
empathy
accountability
and love
so much love
because
I’ve already gone
as far my anchors
to them
and arms for you
will reach

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One thought on “The Artist

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