if you tied cement blocks to my feet                              
i’d thank your fingertips for gracing                              
me.                                                                                  
and when you pushed me out                                        
to sea                                                                              
I’d kiss your stone hands                                                
goodbye                                                                          
and sink                                                                          
with all the love                                                              
i could muster                                                                
without telling you                                                
how                                                                                                          
you’ve tangled
the threads
of my existence
until they became a knot
in your pocket.


i’d scream at the rooftops
the way I screamed at you
and tell them I’d use
them as a trampoline
to spring the regret
i felt for ever telling
you that you were less
than every
shingle
that kept me
dry, although
you’re the one
who always made it
rain anyway.


shot
through a closed smile
teeth shattered
like stained glass
in a cathedral
where i prayed
you’d forgive me.
i know you never needed me
but if you let me come home
i'll stay on my side of the bed
keep me out of your mind
and chain
yourself to the headboard
so you don't feel tempted
to explore
me again.

i know i'm not enough
but i'm something.

-j.l.