Expectations harbor 
in an impossibly difficult box
no instructions
to navigate the
locks and hidden compartments.

I ask (demand)
the other to meet my needs,
reach my expectations,
submit to my ideas of love. 

Echoing somewhere 
behind the feeling
of being wronged
a small voice asks,

"Is it you causing the damage?"

I fall into another bed
unwashed sheets
baggage unpacked.
I lose myself in the wanting. 

The echo shifts:

"They won’t ever be enough."
I am questioning my own reality now,
unconvinced it’s all me.
And yet,
considering it may be. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s