if you see storms
hiding beneath my irises,
blow them away for me. please.

if you see stars
stuck in between the creases of my palms,
bottle them in a jar for me. please.

if you see jards of broken glass
twined with strands of my hair,
take them out for me. please.

but please don't hurt yourself
while trying to save me.
if you think you're about to fall,
please stop yourself.

i am a hurricane waiting to happen.
and that there are secrets hiding in the
creases of my lips as i smile
don't hold me accountable for
the loss that has not yet been found

they're not in the words i have yet to say
nor in the laughter i have yet to produce

they say music is both a prosecutor and a defender.
i have not decided which of those i am but in the meantime,
*let's pretend this never happened