Ropes Poem by Kwach Abonyo

They are cuddling, a softness that drapes itself over the heart
Gentle coils of comfort, slow wrap, tender circles…
Whoosh that comes in low, fibrous breaths
'Listen, ' they say, 'I am here to ease you'

But grip upon grip, that almost-snap
The gentleness sharpens into a choke the moment I lean in
They press against my ribs, and the body, and the soul
But still they croon soft promises, 'stay, be still, let me hold you'
They curl around my lungs in loving shapes
And steal the very air they claim to calm
The tender loops are tightening nooses that insist I stay where I am

They whisper a comfort I can't refuse, like stillness is home
The binding is gentle, and I crave the very grip that comes
Because there is nothing beyond them worth reaching for
The suffocation is the closest thing to comfort I deserve.