shambles

tell me it was all just for the thrill of it
nothing else
the way he held your hand first
before ever seeing it
and it was late, closer to dawn than
your bedtime, so that
even reality had fallen asleep

how there was daylight, even at 12am
the rain searing steaming skin
hummingbirds swirling like autumn leaves
and there was no space to dance but so much
to pray

he presses his hand against your chest
watches it beat
against a glass door, you blink
flirtation written across your eyelids
and he is reminded
of how close you are to the edge, how easy
it would be
to fall

it hits you like spiked punch the next morning
you, flying
with one helium balloon tied to your wrist
you, falling
with his hand on yours
you, hurling dirty laundry with a detached tongue

come with me
if we abandon enough train tracks we’re bound
to end up somewhere familiar
if there is a road that never ends i’ll whittle it down with you
there is nothing pretty about
a crying girl, ever
no matter how soft, how delicate

just call it a mess and we can start cleaning up
call it quits and we can finally move on – stop
calling

leave a message and i’ll get back to you

 

tell me you enjoyed it in the moment, at least