root

I know it’s hard to love an explosion
when you need shelter, solid brick and mortar.

a home.

and I know
that it’s difficult to accept a closed fist
when you want open, sweaty palms,
to thread our fingers while holding hands.

but you have to understand
that even though I can’t properly hug you
(no one has ever taught me how to)
I can still hold you in my arms,
close, and protect you;

unable to softly caress,
I can throw punches at anyone that
ever touches a hair on your head,
lays a finger on your cheek,
or throw a mean, careless word your way.

I can do this
(its the only thing I can do, really,
or that I am good at).

I promise:
I’ll be a feral guarding dog
of your every whim and need,
I’ll have a heart,
-raw underneath-
hidden behind a impassive face,
and tight, thin-lipped expression.

also, I might be bad at feelings,
and maybe you’ll have to explain
why you’re angry twice, three or twenty times,
but I’ll learn… I’m eager.

my hard exterior may never completely soften up
and be like the old worn sweater
you dream to clutch, pull at the holes, wear to bed every night,
but I’ll shield you, keep you safe,
and fight
for you, and you only,
until my very last breath leaves me.

I am trouble,
I know! a challenge:
I am a knife on the flesh
and a rain of grenades
trying to soothe a soft baby,
but for you I’ll try my hardest
to betray my cruel nature
in order to foment your growth
and happiness inside my chest.

I’ll bring peace
as I can,
even if by force of war,
tornado,
or sharp scissors to smooth paper.

I will be a root:
strong in my unstoppable
take over,
even if you can’t see me.

(god forbid I ever stop trying.)

that is,
if you want me.

if you don’t
and ever choose to break me,
you will have the liberty to say to my face:
“I will be the one that destroys you”.

I will be the one to gladly answer:
“I’ll let you”.

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