you scare me.
the very thought of breaking you scares me.
the one I've broken before has made me promise
not to break you as I did him
because he knows you would splinter into
many more pieces, much more of a mess.
and I know this too.
and THAT scares me,
because if I can so easily break
the one I've broken before
who was like a wall of solid rock before
I came along,
I cringe to think of what I could do to you,
a solid block of ice despite the wall you wish
you'd built around your heart now slowly, unwillingly melting
toward the day I'll be able to slice my arm
through you without resistance.
perhaps I labeled you backward,
because water can regenerate.
a rock can't,
and neither can you.