who do you think I am?

I have only been sincere

who do you think I am?

dragging your feet in the sand
cramming fingers in both ears

to stop that noise, that mess of cymbals
but you know where that noise is coming from

I want to see your hands
I want to see you sweat
force them
to be still

I wonder who you think I am
I have only been in love
some poor spectator, through this dark glass

I want to see your eyes
I want to see you take it in

off your tongue
onto my lips

I am so loud
cry and beg and cry some more
you withdraw
compos mentis of enlightened quiet
like
slamming anvil of beyond-earth silence

I only offered myself
bits and pieces, thoughts and thoughts
a nail, a hair, a leg torn off

thrown into the hole we bought

but what sepulcher returns in good
and who do you think I am,
and what have we done to be in love,
and where will I go when we use it up?

from behind the dotted line
that I envisioned

the upswing of human fear
and tending to be naked in it

to climb over the dotted line

to sink in and in

speaking as a child
understanding as a child
thinking as a child
waiting to be pulled to the air

if it will never feel quite right to want
I'll wait until I am wanted

and if the moment never comes, I

I go limp in his arms
just to see if he can catch me

"don't forget about the stars, don't forget about the stars"

they are beautiful, and all over
but the darkness between them is such a scary thing