You throw a stone at me thinking it's a pebble.
And I keep it in my backpack with the others.
Chocking air out of my lungs.
Kicking me in the gut.
Feelings don't look glittery enough?
Wait, I'll pour some blood on them for you.
Yet you walk with an umbrella under the sun.
No one can touch you.
Not even the sand,
Because I walk beneath you in your head.
And when I get angry
You begin talking about how I was a mad mat,
How I didn't walk in a straight line with stones
Or took deeper breaths because of my broken bones.
I take another deep one and I let it be.
You were the longest I had ever known someone to be.
And then came a pebble, when I expected neutrality.
And came in the stone when I wanted peace.
Separation is what I want.
Separation from your noise, from your grey area.