Something so obnoxious as running into a tree
is suddenly deemed reasonable once they know it’s you.
You, darling dear, once ferocious and autonomous,
those were hands of play.
Questions quietly considered are
    never mentioned.
Teasing along as if the branches
were embracing you.
Long sleeves: allies to a not-so-noble cause.
Kisses ache between a bitten tongue and
rabid lips.
You press that smile to your marked eyes.
Cough those giggles out.
The game has been set.
Your view is so blemished and it’s only silently
that these ideas become fixed onto your arms.
Your favorite pair of jeans ripped and your skin is
nervous.
Between all the bottles in formation
he’s picked his poison.
Aptitude lies within those broken veins.
Clumsy.
Clumsy.
  Clumsy.
If they had only built better walking paths around
the trees.