coexist

There are days when I'm a stumbling, fumbling, messy heap on the floor that you throw looks of disdain upon. My dreams have been projections of the everyday things, conversations and people stitched together and doubled knotted then breathed into life with empathetic sighs and whispers. Is it really true that what the mind hides, the heart and soul pats on the back and says I know, I know. I can't stand your condescension and ignorance, oh god I hate it. Yet I crave your understanding. It's this constant push and pull that drives me off the brink. But things like maturity can't be rushed, not simply but by battlescars and valiant limps to the finish line. I've grown weary.

But there are things that are so beautiful, like how for this time I still have his companionship on nights I can't sleep,  a no-fuss, free to speak honesty that makes the cancer shine dimly. Or warm campfires and tangible things like hugs and crowfeet that decorate eyes and big(ger) hands that wrap around and keep safe.

Sometimes it's hard to comprehend how there can be so much pain but without it, how can there be love?