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Life is too short
and I am too trusting
to take what you give me
as anything
other than true.
All of me is earnest:
a vine that can only shine green,
a person who is good at caring,
heart on my sleeve
hoping you mean what you say.
I'm good at hugs
and tears, I'm good at
drink-this-water-and-get-some-sleep,
I'm good at thermometers and doing the dishes
and reading over that email for you before you send it.
Like a houseplant, I will bend
toward the light of your comfort;
let’s grow together in spirals,
I’ll give you shade and you’ll give me a trellis:
mutualism.
I will never flower for you,
but I promise my leaves will be broad,
and my roots will remember your shape
even after you are gone;
I hope that is enough.