tea steeped too long becomes bitter
fruit ripened too long makes waste
a candle impatiently pushes his covering out of the way to join his wick in union with sweet air,
only to drown in himself and die
~
i can never be worthy;
i can never thank you enough
i can never wholly appreciate the gifts you give
~
how can too much love engender hate?
when love is scarce, i breathe more deeply to take you in
when you give me some, my hands join in thanks of their own accord;
my spine strong, in harmony with you
but
when it doesn’t end,
when you are too kind to me,
i fall
into inertia, unmoving
my eyes vacant
my heart, inflexible
~
i hate me
this unbeautiful, ungrateful
child
i try not to go near you,
because you remind me of everything i am not,
everything i can never be
i don’t call your name
i don’t ask for your hand
i don’t journey to your house;
i lock myself in mine
if i move an inch i will bump into you
if i see a mirror, i need avert my gaze
i hate me when i am not like you;
this unbeautiful, ungrateful
child.