Identity crisis

If you’re the moon,
Then I’m the tide.
Roaring and raging with your pull
Slowing and swaying with your release
I remain still before the storm
Reluctantly waiting for the darkness
Wondering how long I’ll be at peace

If you’re the wind,
Then I’m the sail.
Swelling and submitting with your gust
Reliant on your blows for direction
Maneuvering my position to catch your every breath
I don’t know where this path leads
Or how long you’ll keep me in flection

If you’re the rain,
Then I’m the willow.
Rooted deeply as your wrath soaks my every branch, bud, and blossom
Absorbing your heaviness
Drowning while you empty
Dependent on your fall but afraid of my own
Unsure when you’ll return
It’s been weeks since your last visit.
I swallow all I can.
Sometimes I confuse thirst with yearn

If you’re the fire,
Then I’m the coals.
Trapped beneath your fury
Holding your heat while you’re free to sparkle and waver
I lie awake after you sleep
In pieces
Reliving each poke and prod,
Until the night’s silence deafens
Cold darkness becomes me when your warmth ceases

I’m tired of being the thing you control
Morphing to fit
And weathering your storms
Stuck at arms length by your push and pull
In a perpetual orbit of unpredictability and disappointment
This path is not kind
It’s boring
Relentless
And it’s not mine

On my own I’m a force
I was too blind to see
I never needed your direction
Finally far from your reach
I have my own gravity

My feet have touched ground, but the road ahead is long
The work has just begun
The feat will be worth the fight, though
Because now that your storm is over,
I realize—I’ve always been the Sun