I have you under my fingers
in my eyes
between my lips.
You live
as mine
gifted on a platter.
Its sweeter than tears and shaking.
But you don't know
just how deep my knife drawers go.
That these broken pieces in me
grind tirelessly like gears
anything that falls inside.
You say
"its not that bad."
Walking it off
But I can see that helpless hope
shining, falling from your eyes.
And somehow
You're all mine.
You're so blinded
you will lead me out of here.