I will love you unconditionally;
be you blood of my blood,
friend to my heart,
lover to my soul.
I will.
But if you start to twist my love,
buckle and bruise it,
I will leave.
Be it like the hounds of hell are on my heels,
or like a thief in the night,
or with my head held high.
I will.
I don't know how to let go of love.
I hoard it inside like I'm starving.
Because I am.
But I'm learning that scraps do not nourish.
And arsenic, even under pressure, does not hydrate.
So if I have to leave your table,
or set down your cup.
I will.
