POEM: the pushover

[water lily]

the pushover

I try to be there for you.
I am there for you.
Your mouth opens:
A cavern of treasures
Guarded by snares and snakes.
And I listen, silently, sweetly.
My face never wavers,
My eyes ever-radiate consolation.
Can you know the pooling thoughts
Plugged up and restless in my brain?
Your words can be daggers,
Camouflaged by your own unconsciousness
Of their immortal blades.
Your touch, it can be healing,
And at the same time toxic;
For I can recognize its hesitance.

You request a service of me
And I agree heartily.
I tear myself apart
To help whenever you ask.
And still you are unsatisfied.
You are a parched and billowing desert,
And I can never gratify your thirst.
The sweetest water, the purest water,
Will sink into nothingness
In your unquenchable, pitiful dirt.
But how can I pierce you with blame
When your intentions are clear like glass,
When it was nature that determined you
To lust after perfection beyond possibility?
How can I make you feel any degree of guilt
When I care more about your feelings than my own?