what do you do
when love becomes
your ceiling
a book that refuses
to close
the force of keeping
your knees open
warping your bones?
I know I love you.
I know
I am a burden to you.
I am the snow ever
falling, a white blanket
that just keeps coming
suffocating all your dreams.
who is crazy here,
you
or I?
you to think
I could be content
as the creature of your imagination,
me to think
you could ever adore
this
naked vulnerability?
maybe we
are
equal fools.
yet, who
I’ve always been–
a fool for
impossible love.