For every time you looked at me
And asked me how bad you were
I held my words at the tip of my tongue
And let them slide like glass
To back of my throat
Even now
The words are like *****
Scraping my lungs
Cutting free at my chest
Desperate to be heard
I swallow gulps of prayers
Afraid that if anything except love
And flowers erupt
I will be cursed for what seems like another eternity
So I write
And I dream
And I wait
For the shards to emerge
And pierce skin again
Hopeful that this time it is your skin
Instead of mine.