These weighed down bundles
of my tumbled dried insides
collapse into heavy stacks of cotton
linen sheets, tangled;
memories of cold pressed touches
and warm suds wash over me,
while my seams come undone
in my hands.

Why do you think these threads
can be untangled?
I've looked at your patchwork heart
and oh, how I wish mine could be mended like that,
but I hope you can understand,
I've broken many needles in the process
and I'm not sure I can afford to start again.

Oh, so you could finally sleep soundly at night,
knowing my gullible body
warmed your cold, corrupted heart?

Yes, I see now,
you are a real criminal,
sleeping contently with me,
knowing as long as I do,
no one will come for you.

You slept quietly, happily, with comfort,
the comfort of a facade
you made me a vital pawn in;
I did not intend to console
your wicked ways with my love.

Try to sleep peacefully now, boy,
and please take those sweet memories with you,
they weren't real anyway.

Ought I be so scared
of the monsters I fell in love with?

I should know by now
that a man with such an acquired taste
for knives and playthings
could tear me in half.

Their desires to be like me, of me,
torments me as much as the thought
of being like them;
and oh, how my false confidence
destroys me in the end,
pretending I could never fear them.

How quaint it is to exist
inside, between, such disfigured forms
of speech and image,
but must I tremble at their voice,
must I crumble at the feet
of something so deformed?

I know if I see him, see them,
I would much like to be afraid,
and every part of my bones
will collapse into flakes and shards,
only for me to later inhale
my brokenness, with disturbed breath,
and I will feel my eyes swell with lamenting salt,
sensing I'm letting my weakness show.

I've never wanted to run away
as much as I've wanted to run away from him,
from them,
from the absolute tormenting weight of them,
their brown eyes, their brown hair,
their terrible smiles,
they've always claimed to want me
and now I fear they might come
to take me, just like they always said they would.

The absence of you
has been so fulfilling
that despite what love I had to give,
I have found peace
in not giving.

I admit my heart had grown so fond
Of that soft, hesitant voice,
Those bulky hands,
Your gentle smiles;
I had melted into
every loving kiss upon my forehead,
And I hoped so longingly to keep you
Forever,
But alas, I must learn to cope
With letting go.

I can't shake the idea
that given the opportunity
to mend all that is wrong
about us....about you,
that I'd drop so much of me to do it;
but I'm no time traveler,
no sorcerer or magician,
nor an oracle who can tell you
it'll be alright,
no, buddy,
you and I?
We're verboten,
and I'd consign all of my soul
just to relive "us".

I think you'd always known
that I was sacrificial
and I'd lay down all of me
for you,
and neither of us wanted to believe it,
yet now I have to swallow my words,
my tears, my tormenting silence,
and admit I'd loved you so much
that I would have risked it all;
I would have broken the space-time continuum
to have you.