“I couldn’t care less,”
you gently corrected.
I know grammar, remember? as well I know
you, only books were my first true love,
and the sentences seduced me
long before you did. unwittingly.
But I meant exactly what I said:
I could care less (about you.)
My heart is a series of concentric circles,
receding into the depths of me, into the core
which is you. step away, and you can see it for
what it is: a target. and yet you wonder how
I can fear the one I love most of all.
It was winter and your company lulled me
into numbness, and in my meek complacency,
you broke my heart so gently that
I didn’t feel the sting—until now.
There can be no defense against
the one who knows my whole soul.
No matter how much I want to
slam the door between us, I keep
letting hope slide through that narrow crack
until one day I’m blown open entirely.
So I would care less, if only I could,
my dear. in the meantime I’ll pray
that you could care more.