YOU
overestimated the strength of this foundation
this home was made of paper -
3 years of hot glue and worn fingers,
finally we had a bedroom,
a living space

with fall came the rain
day and night, downpour
sign number one the flood was coming -
puddles appeared in the grass and i tried fixing it with my cupped hands
silently pleading that the neighbors look away while i was on my knees
you rushed around with a bucket of paint, the grass must be green
the grass must be green, your shirt must be tucked, i must crack a joke when your family shows
it was still raining and everyone else realized what was happening
my mother called, "please just leave. your skin is greying
get out of the rain."

You slept through the thunder,
a crack appeared here and there and the floorboards shook
Our arguments leaked through the cracks
And the screams dripped down the walls

during dinner it suddenly became all too much
the windows popped, one by one, starting in the basement
you thought if you locked the doors the water would stay out
if we stayed in the covers we would be dry
if i stayed naked we'd be fine
but i'm cold i'm cold and it's still raining

the windows kept popping and you ran to replace them
but water and glass overtook you
shards in your back, shards in your hands
please don't touch me don't grab me don't hold my face
rain water filling your lungs - pouring from your mouth
you screamed apologies and tried to hold me
don't kiss me i can't breathe please don't kiss me don't
the water was only up to your shoulders but you were drowning
just swim, you idiot, make an effort to stay afloat
i have this raft made of my skin
and yes there is a scar there and a burn to the left
but it can hold us

we climbed back into bed instead,
completely submerged
you held me tightly as i welcomed the rain into my lungs
and with the glass in your hands slowly slicing my skin
I apologized
And felt the roof land on my spine