Lizzy Burnam 🐞

But Thay, I love the suffering. 
I want to be 
the canary in his cage, 
dying 
so my love might live. 
I want to be kept
like tulips in a wheelbarrow. 
If I’m empty, 
then I’m empty to be filled 
with his blowing winds
in any direction. 
I want to live with his unrest 
as my unrest, 
to share this peace 
even
if it kills me.
Thay, how do you love 
like water leaking 
from the shattered veins of a glass? 
Thay, how can a river suffer so? 
Thay, my love is sensual:
the smell of him,
the freckles on his hands. 
I want to be his rock, 
even when he tosses me 
like a skipping stone. 
I can dance on any surface.
I can drink from any cup. 
Thay, I would answer to any name
if it meant he’d call. 
I see the sun behind his dark clouds.
I feel the rain in his drought. 
Thay, how can I be his raspberry 
and his sweet potato? 
Teach me how to love 
like a symphony.
I am, because he is. 
My lover, myself. 
Thay, he does not die. 
Thay, 
it hurts me
even
when I dissolve.