“You’re only human.”
That’s how they try to calm me
when I teem with green and
clench my teeth and fists—

because ******* I just want to be wanted that way.

But you’ll give me silence,
followed by stillness,
which leaves me no choice
but to unravel at your feet.

“What a beautiful piece of work,” you’ll say.
“They don’t make them like that anymore,” she’ll add.
You’ll smile and nod in agreement,
and she’ll take your arm.

That there? That’ll be a pretty picture—
one for the magazines or even
the silver screens.

Just please remember to tread lightly
when you bring your eyes forward,
and walk right over me.