In those days, I know, I was shallow.
I thought of little more than
Liquor and words,
And how the sky
Would be made of us one day.
And when I whispered to you
That I was strong,
I knew that you believed it
Even when I did not.
Then it was enough, silly afternoons
With me reading aloud
Under the shade of trees
My voice in character, my thoughts scattered.
Perhaps I should have kept them
Safe in the space between your shoulder blades.
Except when you whispered your strength back,
I knew you were a liar too.
These things are done.
The trees are distant, the shade is gone.
My voice is home, safe with my thoughts.
And my strength no longer depends
On trying desperately to believe in yours.