its like standing in times square
and you're taking off your layers,
peeling away bits of you like an onion
heavy coat, tossed near the gutter
there are your socks, one left, one right
shoes scattered to the wayside
pants folded neatly,
why are they folded?
and there you are,
naked and anxious and 
your throat is in your stomach
but you can't breath because its closed
surely it's closed.
where is the oxygen
why are you naked? 
why is everyone looking? 
this is what it feels like to 
unzip your soul.

you say to me, 
why do you do this thing
to bring me happiness,
tell me, what is the price
i cannot find a way
to tell you that it is 
an act of love. 
i just want to sit with you
sipping my tea and 
reading my book,
and love you until 
we are nothing but 
ashes and dust, 
aged to refininement.
let me love you. 

i dont know her name
but i know i hate her.
i hate what she did to you,
turning you into the tin man,
with no heart to share with anyone.

sometimes i forget
that i have to handle you
like fresh eggs, 
and glass slippers,
and baby birds.
sometimes the hurt 
leaks out of me
like an old sponge,
just can't hold any more
and i forget.

sitting in the tub,
shiny razor right there.
so, so close. 
my body is a blank canvas,
and i can tattoo it if i want.
2 shots of whiskey. 
i love you so damn
much my bones ache.
and my skin burns,
with wanting to be touched
and i wish i could just
drink you away,
or fuck you away,
but i can't and you've made
it clear where we stand. 
come over.
i cant.
come over.
i cant.
come over.
i cant.
my bones ache,
dont you understand?
i dont want to suffocate you,
but i am drowning
and i knew i would. 
i will do anything for you. 

i was careful at first,
flicking the lighter 
watching the flame go 
on and off, on and off
then it was leaves,
and small little fires
little flames i could erase
put out with the flick of a finger
stamp of a foot,
but suddenly,
everything was burning,
everything blazing hot and red
and orange and angry
and i am standing in the middle. 
surrounded.
if only i hadn't
been playing with fire.

you say next time
and i cling to it
like jack and rose.
playing with fire,
hand in the flame,
burn marks, singed hair.
tell me what you want from me
can you entertain the idea,
that you could love me? 
i dont want to ask.
i want to keep you in the box
in my metaphorical closet. 
just tell me, dear.
can you love me? 
how much is this gonna hurt?

sometimes, love is soft and quiet
it seeps in slowly,
and you don't realize it's there. 
it trickles in until until your
heart is so, so full.
and some love is fierce,
like a raging hurricane.
it pours into you,
fast and hard and immediate,
and there you are,
soaked to the bone,
wind whipping to your core,
and it fills you
until you are a flood
and there's nothing you can do,
you are overflowing,
and there is no way to temper
such a wild and free thing.

if i am quiet enough,
if i hold my breath long enough. 
i can feel the hope 
bubble inside of me.
precariously balanced,
between fire and ice.
my body aches to be burned
to turn to ash and rise
up like some kind of phoenix
but the cold is inviting,
haunting, slick with truth
and so here i am.
holding by breath,
until the world shakes
and i am moved.
fire or ice. 

you reached out to me,
maybe because you know
i will always answer,
but i know the truth,
that if you wanted me,
then you would have me. 
it's not rocket science,
it's just facts.