The fire licks the edges of my ribcage;
and I scream with delight.
But then I see you look over,
and tell me with your eyes to be quiet.
My thoughts stream across a line invisible to you;
but nevertheless,
you try to cut it down,
so that my world is gray and blue.
My drum beats to a rhythm; out of tune;
I hear your screeching instrument stop,
so that you may take my music away.
And yet every night, I get down on my knees,
not to bow down to your power
but to pray.

My heart scolds my bleating mouth,
please **** the words that I shout.
My tongue dances to words I do not think.
My heart is so unconnected,
to the words I’m expected
to speak.
How can I expect someone to love,
that mouth there is no soul behind?
Like an endless river,
without a starting point.
Like a drugged up relationship,
and my words are the joint.
My heart never meant those things-
can you hear the innocence my chest rings?
So unusual, this beat.
Keeping rhythm, not in time.
Steady, locked, into this pace.
Broken like a dying flame.

Scarlet leaks across my palm;
like water in the sand.
God, I hope you heal this pain in my heart,
before I put more pain into my hand.
The whistle of the knife-
is like a sweet lullaby.
It’s the personal reflection for which I strive;
it’s the scars that I hide.
Above my knee, on my arm,
across my lips,
a kiss of harm.