Peel me off like an onion, for I am made of layers.
But instead, it is my tears that drown the living room.
Your smell sweet, mine acetone.
This drained vase was once overflowing
They said your words could cure, I followed feverish.
Place your hand on my head and demand I rise,
For days like this the light hurts my squinting eyes.  
Blindfolded, spun around, sown in half,
Is this the big reveal, oh magician?


Your Pollyanna, rosy- cheeked darling has come undone.