We talk about our relationship
as if we are giving congressional testimony,
you always probing
always questioning why I love you,
why I would choose to stay with you
when you obviously don't give me what I want.
This last month has been harder than the 5 years before.
I hear you,
Under oath, I deny that I am not getting what I want
because what you don't say, is that I am not giving you what you want.
You want nights of long conversations
about the nature of self loathing
and the voices in your head
about the inner self and why, always why.
I often neglect the inner self
as if it was a goldfish I forgot to feed over vacation.
Our relationship is dying,
and its not because we don't love each other,
but because strangely,
you don't love your self,
and every time we talk about our relationship,
its me not being interested in your process,
you "descending to the goddess,"
and coming out whole on the other side.
We may never be whole;
we may always hide this cancerous cell
and still be capable of being loved,
which may make the cancerous growth benign
instead of malignant.
I am interested but I also want to be standing here
with a rope if you come out the other side
and find yourself still falling,
water running down a very deep canyon.
where I pour my concerns out,
where the words pull tears from my eyes
as if I am removing cactus spines,
keep me firmly on the ledge.
I can't descend for you,
I spent too many years
caught in my own descent
to want anyone else to rescue me from it
or go there with me.
I had to hit bottom,
had to careen off the walls like a dislodged rock
and climb my way out,
on my own.
And when I hit bottom,
which wasn't really the bottom,
I didn't want anyone else there,
I wanted someone to throw me a line,
was the only thing I had
and I grabbed it and I haven't let it go.
I'll be here when you stop falling,
when you realize
that depression is a bottomless hole,
that you can fall into,
and only you can climb back out.