Protection

It's not enough to be useful when you need me
and discarded when you don't.
Damocles' sword dangles, pricking me
when I least expect it.

That's the shock. I rest secure
until
I'm reminded
brutally, baldly, boldly
of my precarious aerie.

One step out of line and down I fall.
One heavy footfall and crunch go the eggshells.
Disaster strikes despite all precautions.

I can't close my heart simply for protection.
Don't love so much! cries the wounded girl.
How can I not? weeps wounded me.
It doesn't work like that prolapse valve,
opening and closing, over and over,
keeping out the bad and letting in the good.

My prolapse valve is broken anyway.
I have no screening left. Good and bad flow
indiscriminately.

It's not enough to be there when you need me,
discarded when you don't.
But I have no choice.
Pointless to complain.

Not that you heed it anyway.

I try to build a wall
of ice.
Joyful love melts it.
I can't refreeze it fast enough.