Knots

You always told me I'm too young. That there was so much left for me to learn.

You always accused me of wanting to settle down, too quickly, too soon. Assuming it was now or never.

I have lived a thousand lives, and loved a thousand times, and if you or the universe are going to punish me for the sheer intensity of the love I give, then so be it.

I know what I want.

I know that I love you.

I know I'm too much, too soon.

But I was yours.

I wove you into the fabric of my life without hesitation, though you gave me every reason to rip you away from me at the seams. Every loose thread you could find, you pulled hard until we unravelled, begging me to stop patiently tying knots along the way, asking me quietly to hate you, and cut you off.

Let me teach your hands to create, let me teach your fingers to move slowly, freely, and to let your heart and mind meet at last.

It's not that I needed to tie the knot,

I just wanted you to stop pulling.