Love's other half

This thing I’ve been most scared of
Since I was 17
Nipping at my heart in the darkness

Stuck under its spell,
You are too fragile, this will destroy you 
And so I grip tighter
Gritted teeth
Creases around my eyes like cracks in coastal stone

Fists clenched for fear that if I don’t force myself to stay together
I will be reduced to dust,
Cease to exist. 

Crumble,
shatter,
die but worse,
vanish.
Her soul evaporated into thin air, they’ll say.

But the opposite of being closed to it isn’t shattering 
or being reduced to one million pieces that can’t be put back together

On the other side of contraction is opening, 
allowing, 
feeling,
letting it all the way in

One finger uncurls,
an eye peeks through wispy lashes,
the sobs well up, tears run down.

Can I hold myself open enough to feel this much and not be consumed?
Not collapse under the weight of the heaviest boulder that I load into my backpack every morning?

What if I took it out and really looked at it?
Examined its cracks and crinkles?

It would shrink.
It would fit in the palm of my hand.
It would be warm from being held in my heart for so long.
It would be beautiful, mesmerizing.
It would hold the story of a love so deep, sweet and true.
The story of a bond that time nor space could break.

It would whisper to me,
It isn’t possible for someone to be lost.
Remember, there is so much more to everything than what you can see,
Than what you can feel on your cheek and as your leg brushes against another body, half asleep.

It would say,
Remember, you can’t have the love you long for most without its other half, 
grief.