Child,
Don't worry if the shoe fits
**You can always walk barefoot.

My gods are small.
They exist in the space between the lips
Of two souls.
They nourish off the smiles,
Smiling thoughts,
Smiling though times are sandpaper.
My gods are sadness as beauty.
My gods do not ask,
Do not speak.
Do not merely excist as gods
Rather morals,
Rather miracles.
Rather potential that nests between the eyelashes of a child.
Rather existing as we do.
My gods are not really gods,
But lakes that hide behind your lids
When you cannot stand to look to the sea.
My gods are small.
My gods
Are never quite large enough
For another's world.
But always small enough to be seen when other gods are not.

I don't know how,
Such sadnes could fall into
Such empty hands,
And still feel like progress.
Like sand through a strainer
Piece by piece perfectly
Fitting.
Yet falling through.
Truth lies in the small spaces
Between the metal weaving.
Spinning.
Snowflakes falling on pavement.
Cement
In my room. A draft
Under my bed
Like the monster in his eyes,
When he tells me
His love for me
Is slipping between his fingers.

He took away my poetry
A gift to my tongue
A trait to my sanity now teaters in his glance.
One
Glancing blow from him and my world falls.
Balancing tightropes,
Circus acts draw elephants in my room.
He stole my words, thoughts
Now swell in my throat
Fill my mouth with grotesque vines that grow from my stomach.

He looks at her words like flowers that bloom from her heart.
Reaching to his looks
Sweet pollen on his fingers, I know.
I know.
Though he never returned the gift to me that was mine own,
Never my own anymore.
I look to my vines with hate.
My own song now become tightropes
So that you may decide to walk over me again.

Twenty-six.
Twenty-seven.*

I count my blessing before they break by your tongue.

The little bluebird outside my window
Turning black before my eyes,
Smoldering lies it sings to me,
Burns holes in the sky, I know
The way
The little bluebird likes to
Dip and dive through your sky.

After blessings undone, turns
Promises upside down
I may only wish for your
Little bluebird words
To fall flat in your mouth.

If I could stay in imprint of your bed forever,
It's smells of unwanted dreams
And roses.
Flowers so sweet
They kiss my neck,
My legs,
My bare chest as it beats to your sleeping eyes.
They flutter,
I know your dreaming.

If I could lie here forever
I might reach up and touch your check,
To feel the heat of your thoughts as they seep into my fingertips.

Though I know you want me gone
When you are awake.
So if I were to lie there forever
In the imprint of your bed,
Such  lies
Would drive me mad,
I gather my fingertips and leave unwanted affection where it may lay
Naked next to you.