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Sonnet for the tweet you sent me

beloved, shall i care for only you,

and leave my cup unfilled with none to drink?

shall i run—no, sprint—to tie your shoe,

or walk and give myself some time to think?

O syl, i think without you im no saint,

im sick—unsightly, twisted in the mirror.

malnourished, wasting, running ‘til im faint,

my worries pile up when you’re not here.

i’ll walk with you. i’ll call when you get home.

but first, ill care for what i call my own.

to cherish fragile hair, to feed my bones,

i need to learn to love myself alone.

beloved, i will save my only soul,

for i must be alive to be made whole.

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