You've closed in on yourself,
like a butterfly that's gone back in to it's cocoon.
Like somebody whose seen the sickness in the world,
and wants to shut the door.
You've spent the past few weeks scrambling on your hands and knees,
picking up the pieces of your heart that she destroyed.
You've bound them back together with masking tape,
tight as you can with your now
weak
hands.
It's fragile.
You felt it's foundations tremble as I walked through your closed door,
and into your life.

I'm not going to hurt you.

Your skin that's so damp from all the crying,
is the opposite of my thirsty,
yearning body.
Your heart that is so delicate,
balancing on the precipice of
broken
and
fixed,
would fit perfectly inside my own
strong and
empty
one.
I want to show you how I can be your Superwoman,
how I'm ready and waiting to dash into the phone box,
and put on the cape.
I want you to remember how sweet life was when you first left the cocoon.
I'll fix your torn wings.
Step off the edge
and take the leap.
If you fall,
I'm there with my cape to catch you.
Let yourself love again.