Half-Hearted

A Poem for the Estranged

Image by Natálie Šteyerová from Pixabay

Again today, you spoke
with only half of me.

Did you notice?
Or did I succeed in distracting you
with my lopsided happy dance?

That’s what I do now, you know,
twirl and spin one half of me to make you laugh,

so you don’t see
you won’t miss
the other one:

the half that feels unwelcome,
the half that causes you to fold your arms

the half I push to one side
so that you and I can still say I love you,
which we do, and mean it.

Half of me dances her heart out to make sure
the doors remain closed, the
worms stay trapped in their vacuum-sealed cans.

I am tired, but we are worth it,
love. Half is better than none.

I wrap myself in my fuzzy blanket of justification:
you seem happier that way, right?
What matters is, we still say I love you, right?

Half has to be better than none.
Right?

Half of me nods. But the other half knows:
in preserving us, I am losing myself.
None of us was born to be half ourselves;

love is not love
that loves not all.

Perhaps this dance tires you too, love, and
today is the day we both limp away,
half-hearted

Or maybe it’s the day
I invite my banished half to join me, and

stand still in your presence,
needing nothing
and giving nothing

but the love that
I am,
and always have been:
whole