your hands are the same size as mine yet they can hold so much more than my feeble instruments my arms however can lift you heavy higher than the twisting tendrils of vine stretching themselves up and out into the sky on a ten foot trellis Your hands they grab my arms they lift together they melt into a wild new assist
You can pretend That the black gloss On my lashes Will glue my eyes shut- Make me blind to truth; To ‘true knowledge.’ Go ahead. Tell yourself That my red-painted lips Only spout nonsense. It will only make it sweeter When my wing-lined eyes Give you whiplash as I walk past you To get my degree; My award; My paycheck. Maybe if you’re ‘nice’ I’ll buy you an ice pack.