i wonder when my skin will feel safe and comfortable again
i know you don't want to be
in this small room that smells like
my grandmother's clothes
(she died five years ago, did you know?)
your hands are on me and we can go ahead and pretend it feels natural
we're kids playing at being grown ups
with mommys high-heels
they have you walking on hell and the shoes are much too big
for your little feet
and the boys, wearing their father's ties which are much too long
they've got daddy's guns too, in the trunk
they've got daddy's drinking habits too
and you've got your big sister's cigarettes
why do they call it seven minutes in heaven when
this feels much more like the
firey place they call hell
we're all smiling, we're all laughing
we're upside down and floating in the sky
asking ourselves why
because we're too shy to say these words
aloud
too high to say these words
underground
we can leave the closet now,
its been far past seven minutes