Running away

April 8, 2018

felt like taking off gloves

and fingernails,

lock of my hair left on your roof.

 

Our skeletons cannot

move without muscle

and my frame fell

into you,

broken glass tongue,

harassment behind tooth cages.

 

Bird freeing singing

and those noises you make me

make; me a fragile vase,

not your instrument,

 

singing.

 

This is high art paranoia.

Tightropes in my mind. I’m a

stumbling staggering

popsicle perfectionist. You

 

melt me.

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