Artless

I feel bruised all over when you look at me.

Frayed.

I could have skipped the rest and sat on the floor.

Your curved back in a cardigan.

My cold feet in your lap.

I want to sing whenever you’re close but whisper and chew the insides of my cheeks.

My brain thrashes like something caught and held.

Truthfully you didn’t hurt my feelings at all.

I wanted more.

Instead of sitting still and asking you to speak to me, I cruised the periphery, brushing against everything like a cat.
It makes me want to cry that every bit of me is locked inside myself.

Viscera and mood.

Every thinning bone and all this heart!

Caught and held.

Thrashing.

It’s impossible to be happy all twisted up like that.

At least I did enjoy the slinking.

I hope I left my fingerprints everywhere.