Further (a villanelle)

Wondering quietly how far I should go and how many signposts are there on the way, I feel for the map of my heart and I know its more crumpled edges are tearing, and so I tuck it inside and greet a new day, (still) wondering quietly how far I should go. Looking to others and dreaming they know how ‘no’ works, and ‘please’, and - permitted to play - I feel for the map of my heart and I know that after first pain, it will lessen the blow if I smile and invite it, and try not to say "I am wondering quietly how far I could go." When he takes me in hand and treats me so slow and I ache on command, yet I do not delay to feel for the map of my heart and I know that each torn-off piece is a new place to grow that each torn-off piece lets in light of the day. Wondering quietly how far I should go I feel for the map of my heart and I know.