stay safe and hidden
in my arms you’ve built a dream
when the cold is too much
i'm another breath for you
the warmth never runs out

fingers trailing on hips
poking surfaces with fingertips
smudged lipstick on pale cheeks
rumaging through strands of hair

i pick at thoughts through eyes
and they are too honest
forgive me for wanting too much
when you were all that i wanted

freedom to feel
within embraces
regain pureness
real and revealed

i asked her, does it look the same?
she gave me that funny look she gets
whenever i say or do something a little dim
it's a mirror image for a reason she said

in the mirror i see muscles, and strength
hips a little too wide and fleshy
but still muscular,
strength all the way down

but when i reflect on myself,
no mirror necessary
it is never the same

i don't feel as strong as i could
don't look as sharp and sturdy as i could
those fleshy sides, too soft
for a battle-hardened brain
and turbulent thoughts

i need angles, i need straight lines
but there's nothing straight about me
and that's half the problem

and the other half
is that i hate the softness that lingers
but everybody else loves it
and i don't want to be warm and
able to be cuddled

i want hard edges
and nimble, spindly fingers;
when i play my chords
i want my bones to tap the strings

and when sadness sheathes itself within me
i want eyes as dry
as my eczema-bitten hands