When you told me your therapist said
I shouldn't be in a relationship because
clearly I'm still too sick
I wondered what you told her.
I wondered all the things she knows that I never got to hear
Your anxiety or your worry or your fear
or maybe just how you wanted to get away from here
When you told me your therapist said
I shouldn't be in a relationship
I wondered how you long you convinced yourself
to come to that conclusion
or how much you needed that second opinion
to affirm your allusion
I wondered why you scoffed at my commutation
but i never heard you talk
never knew how quickly and easily you planned to walk
never heard a word of how hard it must be, to just be with me
i read the notes you left, the i love yous and i love your smile
they didn't mention the soul sucking pain
my mental illness seems to drain
all the words it seemed you wanted to say
but i thought i heard you say
i was good enough for you to stay
When your therapist said i was too sick
i wondered, to what? to love you? to be loved by you?
i wondered what you thought
or what you already knew
People with mental illness are deserving of love
by someone, but not by you
by someone strong, by someone who
can handle the warmth of the sun and cold of the moon
you called me more than a constellation
you called me a whole network of twinkling fire
my own meteor shower
i didn't realize you must have meant to emphasize
the fall, the debris, the devour
did I end up burning too bright
did your therapist say
I'm no good for your eyes
I'm good for someone who can handle traumatized
A crooked lover can show you all the love in the universe
but will always fall flat it's a curse
and they may need help cleaning their bloody knees
once in a while
but you don't have to, you don't have to.
i wonder if your therapist knew
how much i loved you
when your therapist said
I shouldn't be in a relationship anyway
