by Frances Raybaud
you are the break from my busy life/break is over, back to work
—
finally I’m on equal ground
but I keep shifting my stance
you dreamed last night
a goblin sucked your brain
out through a straw
you couldn’t talk
couldn’t communicate at all
your greatest fear is my daily fucking reality
I do not know how to talk to you.
how can I convey through words
the way my face breaks into a grin
when I see your name on my phone
your kind hurts me
but the bruises you give are the kind I fucking like
you do not make me bleed
(yet)
you do not make me cry
meeting you was
finding pixies dancing in a dirty glass at a bar
and I’m scared to death I’ll break you.
I know I could
I know how
you’re a series of paper dolls
I want to rip down
the suspense is killing me
where are those sharp edges
I’m used to catching skin on?
let’s jump to the part where
I bleed
(I don’t know how to do this dance)
I can’t be delicate
I can’t…
I love lying down amid the feathers of your voice
you spin softly in my palm
wings of gossamer
nip at me
make me laugh
I have my life planned
I have my career on my mind
and now those dreams break apart like water hitting glass
sliding down past memories of your face
my personal life is always a mess:
one day I’ll have to scrape you off
the bottom of my boots
and keep on living
I walk heavy
you lie down on the ground
rather than walk on by
my heart tugs me down beside you
I can’t get up again
I have to get up again
I can’t …
you said
please keep stepping on my toes
I’m telling you,
honey,
they’ll break.
