Blueprint 1

I gave him a blueprint
For how to break my heart,
And asked him not to, please.
He said, “I never will.”

I gave him instructions
For how to pull me close(r),
And told him I could wait.
He said, “I don’t want to.”

He invited me to dinner
And I paused before I said yes,
Feeling (knowing) he wasn’t ready.
He said, “I am.”

Me, foolish in my courage.

His words were filled
With lies and truths,
Unpredictable in their dependability,
The wrong ones trustworthy.

He listened, though, quite carefully.
In reverse order, he followed instructions
And replicated the blueprint handed to him,
With Impatient Perfection.

Maybe he had believed my words
Were not to be trusted, either.
Not consistent in their honesty.
Not accurate in their simplicity.

Him, cruel in his cowardice.

Blueprint 2

She had no blueprint
For how to love them,
So she scattered
Bricks of caring everywhere.

She had no blueprint
For how to care for them,
So she used her words
As mortar for the bricks.

She had no blueprint
For how to make them talk openly,
So she used her laughter and smile
To create a safe window.

But she panicked.

What happens if the bricks
and mortar
and the window
were faulty?

What happens if the materials
Were too accommodating,
Scared, voiceless, anxious,
Powerless?

What happens if the home
Was devoid of light,
Lacked a sense of worth,
Didn’t know intimacy?

She had no blueprint
For how to love them,
So she repaired (loved) their shelter (herself),
And pulled them close,
Close,
Close.

And they learned how to build (love, live) without a blueprint.