Polyamory ain’t for the faint of heart, it’s hard and arduous
it starts with a glance, a linger,
a spark across the table, the room,
and you think, maybe just maybe,
love can be more than the hollow lines
we were taught to trace in textbooks and church pews
but even that first spark
is like a live wire in your chest,
and you don’t know if it will burn or light
or both at once.
you hold hands with her
while texting him
while thinking of someone else
and every thought weighs like wet sand
in your pockets, your chest, your gut
and you’re wondering
if this is liberation or just another way
to fracture your own heart
into pieces you didn’t know existed.
nights bleed into mornings,
mornings into confessions over coffee,
over wine, over the silence in between
and you learn the vocabulary of desire
is not as simple as trust or jealousy
it’s a full dictionary of contradictions,
of rules that shift depending on who you’re with,
on how late they texted,
on whether you can sleep at all.
it’s seeing someone cry because
you kissed another,
and learning how to cradle that sorrow
without picking up your own guilt
like it’s a stone in your hand
that you’ll carry for years
even when the nights are quiet
and your bed is warm and empty
except for the ghost of someone else’s fingers
tracing patterns on your spine.
polyamory ain’t soft,
it isn’t gentle,
it isn’t the romanticized sunset you scroll past on instagram
it’s midnight arguments about space,
it’s boundaries you have to redraw every week
it’s love and lust and grief
all tangled together
and it’s hard, it’s arduous,
it’s a goddamn labyrinth
where the minotaur
is sometimes you, sometimes them.
and yet…
you keep walking,
keep opening doors,
keep leaning into the chaos
because you swore you wanted this
because maybe
just maybe
this is what it means to be alive
to love without the net,
to catch hearts in your hands
and risk dropping them,
risk breaking them,
risk breaking yourself.
and in the quiet hours,
when all the bodies are gone
and the text messages stop buzzing
you stare at the ceiling and whisper
to yourself, to the empty room, to the universe
polyamory ain’t for the faint of heart
it’s hard and arduous
and maybe that’s exactly why you keep going.
Posted inwords and shit