No was never an answer.
I do not know if compromise is natural or learned behaviour.
I am a rhesus monkey that clings to a wire skeleton covered in cloth.
I do not know if I am poorly socialized or just self-soothing.
Trust comes easy when your survival depends on it.
I identify care as an ice-bag over a black eye.
I know abuse as more of a lifestyle than a cycle.
My best friend’s identifier lifts the caution sign off the pit of my stomach.
She has a dexterous heart,
its fingertips dancing en pointe
around my history.
The small of her
ssssssssssssssstretchingggggggggggggggg
to cover as much surface area as possible.
Holding a post-war zone in your palm takes hand-eye coordination.
Watching your friend walk into traffic builds grip strength.
I am learning that unconditional means “just because”,
means “this one is on me, and every one after”.
That healing happens in lack of expectation.
That real love looks like this,
like friendship,
like her.
The Storyteller 