(no subject)
Greater Things Than Passion
The love I need is not devotion
dogging at my heels
and drowning me in guilt-inducing letters
pages upon pages pleading for me to return
I don’t need the pristine sheets turned down
empty until I stagger home to you
I do not seek a life dependent
upon my own; I do not want the weight
of your well-being weighing all my options down,
and the worst that you could ever give me,
all that I cannot ever carry
is your limp and bloodied corpse
between me and someone else’s knife.
That love, so great and terrible, is not for me,
ah, no! I look for welcome,
for open smiling arms
in a house with all the windows open
and no space ready-set for me
but the willingness to make one,
with a shelf of bandages
for anyone who comes along
and no reservations when
I need yet another roll of gauze,
a place, a lover for many people
somewhere that would be fine without me
but always happy to have me there.
The love I need is not devotion
dogging at my heels
and drowning me in guilt-inducing letters
pages upon pages pleading for me to return
I don’t need the pristine sheets turned down
empty until I stagger home to you
I do not seek a life dependent
upon my own; I do not want the weight
of your well-being weighing all my options down,
and the worst that you could ever give me,
all that I cannot ever carry
is your limp and bloodied corpse
between me and someone else’s knife.
That love, so great and terrible, is not for me,
ah, no! I look for welcome,
for open smiling arms
in a house with all the windows open
and no space ready-set for me
but the willingness to make one,
with a shelf of bandages
for anyone who comes along
and no reservations when
I need yet another roll of gauze,
a place, a lover for many people
somewhere that would be fine without me
but always happy to have me there.