too much time has been spent
acclimating, adjusting, averting self-interest--
there is nothing left internally now
but all the changes made to suit you.

too much time has been left to you,
too many dreams devoted to you
and too many futures written with your name
etched in calligraphy next to mine.

it isn't time now to wonder whether
those futures were viable, advisable--
it has always been about your name
and your skin and your eyes and your words.

somewhere in my alternate future
there is a tiny brown baby squalling in my arms,
a tiny piece of love created by two people
who were willing to work harder than us.

i am nothing now but granite, limestone,
a sandstone shell grown empty except one pearl.
i am a canyon, you were my river.
too much time has been spent on you.

too much of my voice speaks your words
and my narrative preaches you, you, you--
i am an empty shell rolling down a hillside
protecting a simple pearl within my walls.