you are the home for my strings,
the things that sting, it's the venom
in the vessels,
like the one that you carry
under your muscles,
structures built to give character.
they ache from the weight of
the rocks compiled in a safebox,
it hold the glow of the liquid
savior that could someday find you.
they act like weights,
heavy on your shoulders,
boulders on your toes.
i'm sorry i left like that
i just needed to catch my knees
from hitting rock bottom.
i guess sometimes it's better to leave it
alone than to dig it back up,
but you and i know that
lock boxes can keep you from
opening up, the key is
stuck in the mechanics
like a child too curious
for its own good.