I’ve carried my burdens.
Bore them for miles.
Hesitant, resilient to impart my trials.
To share too deeply,
With anyone, really.
It’s not trust, I don’t think fear
Not instability or feeling irresolute.
It’s the way I know it weighs down,
And how I’ll be to blame.
The way it will weigh love
Make your love for me swing low
With my trials, my shame.
When I give my sh*t to God,
He doesn’t flinch, move, budge an inch.
His heart hurts with my hurts,
But he heals as I wound, clots while I bleed,
Mends as I rip stiches with my breaths, gasp and heave.
I pile my sh*t on you, and you ache, anger, bleed.
It’s with me and for me, which should stop my re-shame.
It doesn’t, I throb, wishing my mess back into my own depth.
Wondering if keeping to myself
Would’ve just been best.
These breaths we take together.
Our steps, some pained, are measured.
This is what it is to share.
To come out from my corner, alone,
To say I promise, I’m weak, I’m yours.
For you to promise, I’ll stay.
Yours is ours.