Entry 52615 – Either Side of the Fire

You say I

make you happy,

always have.

Then why the burning at the backs of my heels?

This firey weather between us is tiring.

The pushing on my spine with hardened fingers,

A pressing for the forward march: “you are too slow” in the knuckles.

Can you put a constant urging onward,

one at work to detrimental effect,

in the past?

Motion, always a ball of nerves inside

and they can tell.

They stay away. I stay, always.

On edge for you, you don’t notice

or appreciate the struggle.

And I don’t know what to feel

about “you make me happy,” not when you can’t come alive unplanned.

Not when I feel the heat of your ambition, closer than your soft

precise and deep-down love.

Show me,

Break open the core

Let flow all sweetness,

soothing nectar for these blistered limbs.

Show me how happy I make you.

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