.

my body never met you

but it’s missing you

these hands of mine, too bare

without those callused

yet tender fingers of yours

stroking my soul

.

Hold me.

lace your fingers in mine.

intertwine your time.

Hold me.

hard and fast.

whispering to me “you’re mine”

Hold me.

against all odds

and till the end of time.

scrub a hand through broken leaves,

and tell me it's not at all what it seems

circling thunder like a sickening rumble

through and under and overneath the gardens

like weeds

endless grasping gurgling gnarled knowing

ruts and holes and empty open words

meaningless now that they've touched the sky

like wingtips

hissing over the weight of the wind,

forthcoming and foregoing and forgetting

it's different when you're around and even

differenter when you're not, but it's all

so endlessly confusing

when i'm built of mud and soot and loose limbs

fold me up into a box,

and let me get rained on.

scrub a hand through broken leaves,

and tell me it's not at all what it seems

biting pain,

bitter

broken,

bleeding

heart

beating

still

beating

heart

bleeds

broken

bitter

painful bits

shiplapped heart

trimmed in gold

painted red

to match the color

of doll lips

plugged and

prodded

attempted

restarted

loosely confined

to the hole

in my chest

paper mache heart

trimmed in gold

scraped and chipped

to match the color

of used china

play doh heart

trimmed in gold

polished in green

to match the color

of enchanted leaves

Sunlight bleeds in through the window

I'm not sure I know what living is anymore;

you say you think of me, daily, often-

but how could you, when you barely

know the way the morning falls

on my thin, mistaken features?

How can you be in love with someone

who is continually inconsistent,

everchanging, ever becoming

less real, less desirable?

I will change into the colors you ask

of me, knowing the detriments

that will follow after this feign.

the more space

the more

I feel

out

of

order.