re-reading the velveteen rabbit at thirty-seven
amy saul-zerby
I don’t want to hang
on your every word
but of course, I care
what you think.
There is so much space
between love and
obsession. I know because
I’ve walked it
end to end. I have wanted
to disappear
into love and (forgive me)
I’ve taken
it for granted, and now
I do not want to do either
ever again, but I would
spread out a blanket
in the middle with you.
I would chart
the in-between holding
your hand (not
too tight) a kid or two
in the back,
or not, and I’d get
so much older
and you’d notice
every weirdness
but maybe, you’d stay
and I’d stay
not because we vowed to
or out of habit
or fear of being alone
but because it is better
than anything to be
here together
and accepted, and challenged,
and challenged again
and loved until we are
two shabby dolls
in a nursery full of shiny
new toys
but it doesn’t matter
because we are so
very, very
real.
I don’t want to hang
on your every word
but of course, I care
what you think.
There is so much space
between love and
obsession. I know because
I’ve walked it
end to end. I have wanted
to disappear
into love and (forgive me)
I’ve taken
it for granted, and now
I do not want to do either
ever again, but I would
spread out a blanket
in the middle with you.
I would chart
the in-between holding
your hand (not
too tight) a kid or two
in the back,
or not, and I’d get
so much older
and you’d notice
every weirdness
but maybe, you’d stay
and I’d stay
not because we vowed to
or out of habit
or fear of being alone
but because it is better
than anything to be
here together
and accepted, and challenged,
and challenged again
and loved until we are
two shabby dolls
in a nursery full of shiny
new toys
but it doesn’t matter
because we are so
very, very
real.