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bb Dec 2014
the door swivels
and you hobble in.

what's the matter?
you're fro-zen.
come in and sit by the fire.

oh no --
your fingers are white
like the lace on your waistband.

who did this to you?
tell me as I make you some coffee
no sugar, no cream.

your voice is scared
and I try not to turn red, turn over in my skin.
I tried to slow my heartbeat for you.

I am not the dominant figure here.
I am the helper, the healer, the envelope
sealer, the stone.

you are the flame
and I am the wood.
you are always welcome to burn me up.
bb Aug 2014
the ocean is unforgiving.
it ebbs and flows and drowns.
you are perched there on your sailboat;
you have thought this out.
at your feet is my body, alive but immobile, bound by ropes you twisted yourself using my vocal cords and your shoelaces.
the makeshift ropes secure the rocks you've tied to me,
made of quartz and the unchanging fact that I always come back.
it's almost time.
I look at you with fear and desperation, and you look back for just a moment.
your face is a board hammered down to your skull. you feel nothing.
you pick me up, not looking at me.
steadying yourself near the edge of the sailboat,
leaning your shin against the wall of the sailboat,
you throw me
in.
the water hits me in stages, the cold slicing my shoulder.
the last breath is a hardship,
but a necessity.
bubbles spore from my nose in the water, ascending in schools
but I am only a dropout.
I plunge downward.
the light is running away from me
I would catch up, but i'm not in shape.
this was your plan.
you sail back to shore;
a storm is starting to brew upstairs.
you will not give it a second thought --
I have enough second thoughts to supply an army that you command.
can you use second thoughts as gunpowder?
as a mask?
as an escape?
I will never find out.
bb Aug 2014
somebody is watching me
they peep through tiny holes
veiled by secrecy,
they want to see our souls.

I looked back at them
and they were quite frightening
their yellow eyes a requiem
as the sky was lightening.

they told me to tell you
that they saw your lungs' shutters
they heard your wooden songs
and they felt your heart flutters.

they wanted to help
and I said you didn't need any.

— The End —