I am a menace. Scuttling between paper leaves and doors. I can’t tell which ones are unlocked. My clattering legs will skitter across your countertop, and I have felt so small. I have been out of sight longer than I’ve been alive and I knock your dishes onto the under-grown floor. The tinkling of porcelain is my alarm clock. I bounce off the fine china, my arms stretched around me, and I wonder how you could miss all these pieces. My hands are too small to cause such destruction. But my hands can reach much further than yours. So I slide myself between cracks. I become a line, another crack, and I bring you the slivers. Wedged between the tiles and glittering from termite holes. I bring you the glue and my sickly face blushes from embarrassment and apologies. I am learning what good my hands can do as I bandage and kiss your poor, ****** fingertips.
People start losing their unique ****** qualities The objects in your house become dull clutter Monday morphs into Tuesday and Tuesday morphs into Wednesday and Wednesday morphs into Thursday and All of a sudden you don’t know what day it is.
The only thing that doesn’t lose its edge Are the words that pump out from your lung, to vibrate from your vocal cords, then are fine tuned from your larynx, and emanate from your articulators. Those are the words that stuff me deeper into the hole.
Sometimes it’s not words but actions That burry me under and into the darkness.
This hole I speak of, ***** you in and won’t let you out Until you’ve admitted defeat And hell, You’ll never live to see the day that
Sometimes I catch him just looking at me and my mind goes blank. The way he looks at me is one of the best feelings; I feel wanted, I feel like I'm the person that someone else needs. The way he holds on to me feels like he never wants to let go and I feel more than safe but I can't have any of it. I can't fall for the way he gazes at me and I can't long for the way he holds me.