the poem is
just beneath the
skin

the skin is pale and
easily opened

what happens though
is this

i find myself
out of words

out of breath on
the front steps with
the roses i bought
already fading

with apologies falling
dead
from my lips

and if i’m not a
person you could ever
love and if
you don’t have the strength
to hate me
then what?

we are all afraid in
the thin air
of passing days

held to the ground by
the sheer grey enormity
of the sky

by the lack of
possibility

one among us just
waiting for the
perfect moment to step
forward and be
cr

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