dumped

i heard a story today about a woman
who had never dumped anyone in her life.
She had always received and never gave,
a vessel for the unfulfilled dreams of others,
this pitcher that can't be tipped over.
I think these things collect inside you
and they flow out, like honey nectar
down through your limbs and make them slack
and placid, worn and eroded.
I also heard a story today about a woman
who had always dumped others.
She had shot arrows and jumped hurdles,
watched tears and did not move, did not stir,
but steeled herself against onslaughts of
desperation and pain, turning cold,
freezing everything so nothing could get in,
shutting the doors, one at a time, and bolting
them down.
For every dumper, there is a dumpee.
At one point joined and one.