8 Ounces and Counting

“I am a wooden pole,” you said.

“I bear weight, and gladly, but too much and I will collapse.”

And the words of the song from the man that you love slid into my ears

As if they are made for me

About me

My heart is heavy, and I have broken stronger men

It’s only a matter of time until your splinters split my palms

Until then I will hang on and I will try

   —I swear to god I’ll try—

To find strength in these shaking thighs and breathless nights

If we are very, very lucky all this effort will result in biceps made of steel

A belly tight enough to move mountains

And I will lift my own heart before the weight snaps us in two

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