AVERILL

At times I don't want to feel at all. I don't want to love. I don't like to be so vulnerable. At times I don't like him, because he is my heart. He is my heart and he walks around without concern for being my heart. I cringe when he does things to bring himself harm, he is my heart and I want to but can not guard against the world. Sometimes I imagine my heart is so little, it's insignificant, but I know it is never true. No matter how small he may actually be he consumes me. That sweet honey that lies so deep with in me, it's all for him. And I fear how freely and openly I give and drip my honey all over him. It covers us both and is not unseen.

This child in me, so good and naive, becomes wise and guarded of him and his needs. I was naive to my heart. Could not know what it would do to me. How it would make me burn with love, and cold from that same heat. He is my heart all the good parts of me, all the bad parts I hoped to spare him and all I can see. I do all to protect him, sell parts of my soul to give him peace. If this was your heart you would do all the same things. I laugh at me heart and at him I scream, I cry out all my wounds trying to hide him from me. I am so messed up, he does not have to be. My battle with depression should not be his battle for me.

He is me, my bundle of sweet. "A" for his apples, smarter than he thinks. "V" for his vision, how much he sees. "E" every hope, all my dreams. "R" his is real, the only real thing to me. "I" am immersed and focused on his needs. "L" for his laugh I'd give all of me. "L" for he is my heart and loved so well.