You put your trust in me,
crack open caged ribs and slip
flawless hands into flawed breath.

I close the weeping wounds and
smile up, with innocent face false.

Shush, you give me such a gift
I could never drown and admit
this was not what I asked for.

You place ruptured trust in me
but never wonder of space carved,
a waiting cavern, empty, unadorned.

I stroke the hair at the nape of your neck,
your head sleeps steady on my shoulder.

I lay awake and remember -
recall, recollect, render pieces
of another

whose trust riddled woodworm
promises, once undermining the
structural integrity of my mind.

Still, my hand moves, a sure constant, trapped
between pulling you close and
pushing you away.