I know you. Sometimes you say things, expecting that I won’t understand, and I think it’s strange because I know you. That’s what this is. I know you, And I want you, And I care about you Anyway. I want no one else. You might not know me, The stanchions you use to prop yourself up eating all that I have fed you, In the darkness, In the night, But I know you. And I want you anyway.
It’s time to cut the strings of you, I think. I get tangled up and I’m tired now. Just let me rest for a minute, to ease my eyes and stop my spinning mind. But then I’ll get to cutting. Snip. Snip. I can’t wait for my first breath.