If I invite you in you will still be a stranger.

I am not one to tell you who I am,

what we could be.

I toe the risk line but never slip.


If I tell you I am usually buried in blue

and look into your eyes

you should feel lucky.

Maybe my hands could hold you

but I’ll never let them,

an evening passes and the whispers say

anything hurts less than the quiet.


But I am used to hurting that way,

I will not throw myself off the ledge

even when the flames lick my skin.

I do not know what it means to be alone

because I swallow it every day and there is nothing special about its taste.


I wake up every morning

and there is a guillotine on my tongue,

it does not let me be awake for the most perfect parts of today.

It does not let me open the door to strangers.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 4/3/18

View tallsquirrelgirl's Full Portfolio