Patterns and habits chip away
at the edges I knew
long before I knew you.
Expectations carve out
the narrowest of spaces
where I can't fit, you can't fit
it's all too big, too constricted.
Every time the walls come closing in
I writhe and gnarl until I
am broken free again,
and back to higher ground,
I am found I am found.
When my heart begins to slip,
and grip the fresh and fragile ground,
I look around and
I am small again, I am nothing,
I am not.
I am not for you; for I am infinite.
Sometimes I write them, sometimes I share them.