The tender unraveling of connection—divorce, boundaries, and memory.
Love Unwoven
after walking together for twenty-eight years our paths divided with a year between us, I see we walked with separate eyes in sorrow I ask are we traveling or dancing? when someone enters should we press our fingers together bend in rhythm spin away laughing when the music stops?
Love Unwoven
while having a difficult conversation about my gender transition I asked as we've been talking do you feel you’re talking with a man or a woman she replied it feels like I'm talking with myself
Love Unwoven
we are trying to separate why do you grasp so tightly? I offer you all the possessions including physical custody why do you insist on taking my identity you've never loved me oh, you've said the words done the deed dropped tears in confession but not
Love Unwoven
when you look at me what do you see? are you seeing me now or projecting who you want me to be? do you bring up old pictures and adorn them with longing? saying that's the you capturing me in flatness we give more grace to an oak
Love Unwoven
I'm unfamiliar with this place reaffirming my boundary while she works to break it down in the past one guilt-loaded word easily let her cross now I stand, but shiver I reinforce, but fear my boundary a glass net of open vulnerability