i could be a contortionist,
i would have bent backwards for a touch
of your cigarette lips and
i could unscrew my bolts to weld against
your plastic case.
your shell you carry is uninviting,
yet i want in.
i promise not to promise,
when you hold your
bird caged  bellows in,
the ones that left you long ago.
i will take your lion frame
and form it in
the comfort and shelter
i have discovered
in the gray weather systems
and your blue eyes.
i can't give you my lungs,
but i could help you breathe a little softer.

i won't give you my heart,
but i could lend you some of it's
articulation,
fascination,
like how your hand fits in mine.