past tense

How will it feel
to have to breathe life into you?
to have to deal
with your three-dimensionality
when it has taken so much
strength to let you in
-to my life as an idea?

How will I come to terms
with you being an idea
with a personality,
opinions,
a mind of your own
and a body impossible to deny?

How will I accept you?
Sitting across from me,
eating for sustenance,
conversing to pass time,
extending a hand in friendship?

How will it feel to have no choice?
To be a hypocrite bound
by who I intrinsically am?
Fallen. Your body will fill spaces,
your voice will have to be heard,
your eyes met,
and your feelings acknowledged.

It feels as if my world is limited.
And you will take up all that I have.
You will do so unknowingly.
You will not realize that the air you breathe
freely is the last breath I have.

You will step unfalteringly onto my ledge;
your step is my slip. No room you see.
How much room can I make
in this heart after all? I don’t know
why it is asked of me.