Giving up, giving back

I'm not really into poetry. It's kind of one of those things where yeah, OK, I understand its cultural importance and blah blah blah but really, I'd rather read science fiction or historical fiction at the end of the day. So when a poem comes around that I actually like and feel a connection with, it's sort of a big deal.

Never Give All the Heart, W. B. Yeats

Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy. Kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.

I'll never give all my heart, for the time I once did was hard enough. The thought of giving that much of myself again sends me into a spiral of self-loathing so strong that I don't know what I'd do if it actually happened in person.

I'll never give all my heart, for the times I've spent crying aren't worth it.

I'll never give all my heart, because the only person I can always rely on 100% of the time is me.

I'm slightly bitter and jaded, perhaps. But I don't identify much with those adjectives. I am a strong, capable, independent woman. Giving that much of myself nearly destroyed me once. What idiot would do that twice? Not me. I am not "deaf and dumb and blind with love" because such an action would be a repeat of history. I learned the first time that giving everything isn't worth it. And if that means that the only stable relationship I have is with my dog, that's OK. Because Parker's probably cuter than most of the boys I've dated. And he always agrees with me.

I live. I learn. I love. But that doesn't require me to give everything. And I won't. I would rather be selfish and sane than stand there on the sidewalk with my heart and soul pouring out of me again, like sand from a broken hourglass. It's a price I'll pay, gladly. Self-preservation is logical and rational, and there's not much that anyone can say or do to convince me to change.

Never give all the heart. Because you can't live without one, and a damaged one isn't worth much, either.