RELATIONSHIPS

She was labeled as dangerous;
others judged her a liability.
Her love language was words
of animosity, words taught
by a father who spoke
with the emotional intelligence
of a half-cocked .22.

However, she gradually beat
her bullets into affirmation,
her rifles into empathy.

Would she be held like a scarf
that warmed her layers?
No, she wouldn't dare
let me get emotionally close
without earning it.

At first, she let reclusion
provide a wall, the way a zarf*
insulates hot coffee from a hand.
She refused to be gulped
since the initial jolt excites,
while the aftertaste-afterburn hurts.

I…