I am no tree

You said
“a fiery, electric, platonic connection.”
And I’ve never been loved the right way so
naturally I’ll never love traditional.
I’m not afraid anymore that I’ll love wrong
that I’ll hurt-touch like them.
But I’m wary of the molded loves,
of being expected to give my heart and hand
to the same person to whom I give my body.
I love to love to love to love,
but only when it involves no sacrifice
or take or give,
just of say and hear.
Maybe that’s your idea of diluted romance,
but nothing of my manic life drives unsaturated.
It is sick how much I want to listen to you all,
– the heart stamps.
So now I have quite the chapter where I ask for
patience
or
apologize for my wings and full tank and running shoes.
Now I create your hearts of some other clay or pulverize
your attachment to being attached.
How beautiful love is when it thrives without contract
or without its steel roots.
What I’m saying is maybe foundation is not built on occasion.
I am the foundation.
And rather than build atop, we build between.
I am no tree and I will not grow down to grow up.

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