the ties that bind me.

I wanted to know what I was so afraid of, and now I have found it.
I have found the most difficult thing, which is to bear myself unfolded to you.
I have found the most difficult thing, which is revealing my innermost being to you.

This most difficult thing - it undoes me.
It looses all the ties that I have tightly wound around me, and
this is difficult because I worked very hard to get all the knots right.
I practiced and practiced and practiced until
everything was seamless and joined together properly
and my knots became all I saw of me.
I practiced and practiced and practiced until
my blood knots were bloody knots and
my fingertips - tried to the bone,
used for hard work - calloused hard with my heart.
So calloused I became and then
my thick skin protected me from all the
ties I kept binding myself in.

My ties were made of two lines and
I wrapped them six times
but 
what I didn’t know at the start of all of this was that
the lines were supposed to be the same size.
So I kept making you smaller, more similar to me, so that our lines could be joined together.
And I kept making me bigger, more similar to you, so that I could be a god in my eyes and
we could be together.
And when I made me bigger and looked at you like you were me, we
fit in my knot-tying hands, so I tried again and
I wrapped our lines six times.

So I kept working, my blood knots becoming bloody knots and
my fingertips - tried to the bone, used for hard work - calloused hard with my heart.
I tucked back through all the lines I wrapped up, and
I sent you back through yours, too.
I was still my own cord, tethered to my own world, and
so I slipped back through where
I was supposed to connect to you.
And you, how could you bind yourself to me, so I sent you back between the lines and
I stopped reading between the lines,
and before I knew it, we were going opposite directions,
but I was doing what I was taught so why was I missing you?

So I repeated the process, my blood knots becoming bloody knots and
my fingertips - tried to the bone, used for only hard work - calloused hard with my heart.
I brought my line to your line and
I wrapped them six times and
then I slipped back through
where I was supposed to meet you,
and then I tightened up again
going in the opposite direction.
And then I repeated the process, my blood knots becoming my rules and theology and
I became incredibly lost in me and
my fingertips - so worn and tried, used up and tired - calloused hard, but
not harder than my heart to you.

And so now I find myself, lost in the ties that bind me, and
I’m afraid of you unwrapping me.