Roses always look beautiful
When the frost comes.
Always look poised
And fragile encased in the crystal.

But soon enough
The cold seeps in,
Blackening and withering them
Until they die.

I see you staring at me
The clear statement in your eyes:
"You're sick, you're sick"
Words unsaid, but deeply meant.

And then the winning question:
"Have you taken your pills yet?"
Suspended there
Like you have the right to ask.

As if that is the reason
We keep having these issues,
These creeping doubts,
In our claustrophobic lives.

Because I've taken my pills.
Swallowed them like tasty sweets
Always hoping
That they'd get caught in my throat.

No, it isn't the issue,
They always do their duty.
It's time to face
That we are the **** problem.

I see we sit for tea again.
To be honest with you
I thought your visits had become
More natural.
As our plastic pink cups
Were replaced with China
I see now we've just have grown a more mature understanding.
You come as you like,
as I and others clean your dishes.
Only to come back to you
Pouring another cup of pennyroyal tea.
Each year
Three pasting now
you've poured from that ***
I surely thought you had to be done with that 8th serving.
The *** seems bigger every time
you pour
now you've taken the 9th.
You've over stayed your welcome.

Since when was your body what defines you?

I've been so detached from this body
Since I can begin to remember-

I am not the free form freckles that crawl up these legs.

Nor the angles that form curves,
I am not this body.

This foreign object I reside in
I decorate.
I paint,
I cut,
I dress,
I hang my decorations;
To make windows.

Make windows,
To peek through thick walls.