your mouth on the inner walls of my temples
says to me, why do you keep coming back
unrehabilitated, obstreperous, unchanged
and expecting change?
why do you wait so long?
one of my voices whispers back
that i return because a circle
never alternates routes,
because the moon will always follow the sun
or the other way round
because an end always precedes a beginning
and because a part of me still believes
or is insane
knows it loves apart of you
is afraid of how drastically
the rest of you has changed around it, and
knows/fears you will never accept this:
that i am afraid to change, or that
i cannot change because these patches and pockets of me
are part of who i am and always will be.
not only is that not enough for some people,
but it’s even too much for them
and i don’t trust you not to be another
any more than you trust me to grow into something
you can love properly.
take me as i am,
because i will keep coming back
and pecking dents in your windows
and to some extent all glass is fragile.