Logic

Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva

Your words, 

so structured and forged

stung as they fell to my ears. 

Was it logic, was it bullshit?

My mind, too frazzled to know the difference. 

Your words were laced with desperation; your actions were poised with fear 

as you sat across from me—

frightened and broken.

I too, am afraid.  

You contain the power to hurt me;

to constrict my hope, to crush my pride,

in ways I’ve perfectly constructed in my mind and thought through twice. 

But, the difference between I and you…

Is strength. 

I am scared but I am strong.

Strong enough to endure 

the twists and pulls, 

the damages, 

the pains, 

inflicted from broken hope. 

My fear, of loving you

took a hold of me. 

It consumed me. 

I was frozen, 

letting in-action erode my soul, 

just the same

as the imaginary pain, 

I imagined you could inflict. 

My fear paralyzed me. 

I was weak. 

I swallowed my fear 

and knocked on your door.

My limbs trembled as I spoke the words, 

I had been so terrified to say. 

My voice shook, 

my vulnerability had taken on a life of its own. 

It became a layer of skin

that slithered over my body, 

that slurred my words, that shrunk my power. 

I was transparent. 

My love and confliction and fear 

oozed out of me.

You accepted that. 

I could see you jumping in your bones

as you swallowed your excitement;

as you conveyed your collected demeanor. 

For a brief moment in time, 

I was wrong.

All the words I had been so scared to say

were met with understanding, 

were met with your coy smile

as you folded your laundry. 

Sleeve, sleeve, fold, stack, repeat. 

The image remains as clear as day. 

My logic was wrong, 

for a brief moment in time 

you wanted me, too. 

Words cannot express 

the wave of affection and hope that coursed through me. 

I begged you to hold me, 

before you let me go. 

Entangled in memories that will never exist, 

we took a step backwards. 

In that moment, 

there was no logic. 

I could’ve stayed in your loosely gripped embrace

Forever. 

You were scared to hold me too tight,

but you didn’t want to leave. 

There was no logic to explain why I believed you. 

…And then the black and white thoughts took control. 

It took less than two days, 

less than 48 hours

to cower. 

I can picture you squirming, tossing in bed that Wednesday night perfectly.  

Regretting, forgetting 

how good it felt 

to let logic go. 

The logic was too appealing. 

The rush of butterflies didn’t make any sense to you

(but you should know darling, they are not supposed to.) 

There is structure in logic, 

I do understand, 

but even this analytical mind

is aware of the damage logic can ensue. 

Logic is sensible, but logic is weak. 

Logic makes sense of what we deem tangible. 

Logic does not understand the butterflies – 

the highs that illuminate 

that leave bones yearning, 

that leaves skin craving, 

the taste of bliss or 

Lust 

Or 

sweaty, salty skin pressed against 

Skin. 

Logic degrades love, your logic degraded me. 

I trembled, 

as you drove the dulled broken blade,

through the carefully constructed hole I provided 

in the frozen walls locked around my heart. 

I opened it for you. 

I trembled as you told me we could never be. 

Rage coursed through me, 

as you sat silently;

you watched me burst into flames, 

into tears.

You watched all my fears come true.

Sorrow washed the rage down my mumbled throat. 

You insisted I blame you, 

blame your heart break, blame your logic. 

I do not blame logic. 

It’s a shield, 

a weapon. 

It protects. 

But amidst all the logic, 

we cannot think ourselves sane. 

Your loaded gun of logic will backfire.

Your fears of pain and loneliness will come true. 

And after all, 

it is the biggest heartbreak to prove your logic right… 

Because logic can’t feel;

it can’t surge through vessels 

and radiate within bones. 

No, 

Logic cannot heal you like love can.