subtlety is not a trait I possess well, when I mention
late night texts and infatuation here and there I mean you,
the problem is that I've been here before and I've
fallen too fast.
the problem is that I build these walls that cave in
quickly and resolutely;
I am a dreamer of romance and like
procured fat bouquets of sunflowers unexpected,
quilts, meaningful embraces where the whole world
drops right out of your stomach.
I worry myself because this heart is so brittle; it's known
to have been dropped a time before;
I'm sick of sweeping up slivers of organs like glass,
always laying everything that means anything out on the table for people to poke around in like
I am some kind of mystifying tag sale.
even though things seem different this time,
they don't, really,
anxious wrists and fingers that don't
hold pencils very tightly,
hugging sweaters and the memory of a
quite lovely monday night
and some really awful ones time and time before.