I turned to face the other way,
Willing a door to open;
Or for a perfect window
To crystallise from vapours
And remove me, if only for a while.

Swollen stone of a chest.
Bright eyes. Words emerging now
Would have a certain colour,
But my throat won’t seem to give them life
Like a stronger woman.

Retreating is only pitiable
If you call it so; but I do.
I slip back underneath to be swaddled;
Like a broken thing, no longer required
But important to save.

Days lose their names, and my
Pupils dilate to blacken bovine eyes.
I am the defender and queen of my heart,
Undressed at her glass; following ridges
In shadows cast by yellow light.

Beautiful sense surround me;
Please give me a quick heart.
Let me choose one way because
A static state is nothing but half death.
I don’t know how to lose these hours.

Now I am fully stretched;
Reclining on the in-between
To fall,
Or to be held close like an infant,
Bursting and grateful for warmth and light.

Maybe nothing’s static after all
When you’re turned and tricked by
Whispers in the dark;
Held taught between two worlds
And lost in one.


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