RESTING

All this love resting in my hands.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do with all of this love resting in my hands.

It sits there.

Heavy and waiting.

It sleeps with me.

Every night in bed.

It grows like a baby.

Day by day.

I hold it.

I carry it.

I watch it.

I question it.

It's stubborn and it's not going anywhere.

I continue to make more love for you.

I can't make it stop just because you don't want it anymore.

You said it was all too much to handle.

But what happens when this love gets too heavy to hold?

What am I supposed to do with all of this love resting in my fucking hands?!

I guess I'll just keep holding it.

Maybe it'll get lighter ... or I'll get stronger.

I could make art with it.

Make some shapes with it.

Make music with it.

Fuck, I'll make a fucking cake with it even though I'm shit at

baking.

I don't know what else to do with all of this love resting in my hands, when I can no longer give it to you, the one person it belongs to.