Your heart is porcelain
You cradle it in the darkness
In the dust you run your fingers
Against the edges searching desperately
For cracks that appear
Chastising yourself when one is found
Filling the spaces with glue
Hoping nothing will escape it
Did you hear me knocking?
Did you hear me walking up the stairs?
Creak
Creak
Your bedroom door swings open
You lie on the bed made up perfectly
Running your fingers along
The chambers and honeycomb connecting
Tissue.
The room dim lit and dust
Ten million nerve endings connect and discharge on your skin where we touch
Rushing armies of red blood cells swim to satiate the need in your brain
For oxygen
You recoil at my touch at first
Understandable
So I pull the brittle dust covered rocking chair
From the corner
I pull up the blind to let the yellow afternoon sun pour in
Pupils adjusting from shadow
You detest the warmth and brightness for a moment.
Your eyes wide with fear as
I sit in the old chair
A strange statue I feel I have become
Watching you
Watching me
I read to you
From a dusty tome
Full of English poetry
"Would you come outside
And play with me?"