Coming to Terms

I will eventually come to terms
with being alone,
but for now,
it's still the most painful thing.

How do you tell your heart
to let go of the very one
who made it whole,
brought it to life again?

Holding on means
feeling the barbs of every
memory you planted inside
me.

I will eventually come to terms
with your arm's length embraces,
separating yourself even as we
come together.

How do you continue to reach
for that most painful thing -
that barbed wire heart -
when every wound still bleeds?

Holding on means more time
spent washing wounds
than listening to your heart beat
next to mine.

Worst

The worst alone
is the one you feel
when someone is
holding your hand.

Reaching

I have to wonder sometimes
what is so wrong with me
that my desire to
love and to be loved
is so unreasonable,
so unattainable.

Am I so broken that the
heart I have shown you is
so repulsive, unwantable,
that you dare not even touch it?

As if my scars were contagious.
Or you might be associated with my kind:

The desperate feelers who reach and grasp
like bodies in the Styx,
just wanting to be reached back for.