what if

if i were more light than dark, would you love me then?
if i fit inside my body and didn't use shovels to bury my fears
would that make you want me?
if my fingers could knit borders that were still moveable?
if my luggage didn't fill the foyer?
if i had the courage to show you the flowers in my garden without being weary of you trampling them?
if i had the strength to tell you i was hurting rather than pretend i was better than you?
i wasn't enough
soft like cactus skin, untenable like a field of dandelions, maleable like doll parts
were constellations insufficient? the ocean's depth?
our picture was odd, but what meaningful work of art isn't?
i would have given you the world, we would have been unstoppable
with your vision and my wings we would have flown the skies
counted every living thing, and created catalogues for our children
fossils, twigs, bones, feathers
but our tree was struck by lightning
a hole created big enough to let the wind in
we lost each other to the elements
you: tarnished silver; me: corroded copper
the trunk no longer suitable for living
the roots no longer nourishing the branches
the leaves yellow and sick
ask me anything, plead with me, beg for change, I want you to
i will say no, I can't see you, don't want you, I no longer love you
i've learned nothing
still have trouble seeing, knowing
and i have lied
i am certain of my love

whatif