i talk a big game.
i joke and poke fun at the boy

but he really is the best thing i have going for me right now.
& i don't like that i have that much....
that he holds so much power over me.

life will go on if he
(when he)
leaves me.

but i like that i actually feel better after we fight,
and not worse,
because we fight clean,
& finally actually fix the problem.
it's never been like that before.

& i like how you want to make this work.
& i like how your eyebrows tell stories.

i want to keep you.
i want to stay with you.
i can give it up

My weapons:
my sarcasm, my teeth,
my sexuality, my coldness
my reality, my need for definition.
my nails, my hair.

i can lay them down and away for you.

do you see them for what they are?
do you understand?
naive, i adore you.
you don't see me the way i am sometimes.

or, then again, you do.
unable to see these weapons and parts
you see beyond them.

see me dancing in pink
laughing wide
see me small and sad
see me trying to keep my head up-
that's really all any of us are doing.

because im smaller with you.
im not the
ever expanding mess
that i have been.
im small and weak and young and normal.
it's fine tonight.
you hold tiny me close
and stroke my back.
i could scream right now and you'd be alright
you wouldn't run.
you wouldn't even hear the scream
just the thought behind it.
i look up and see you
see you wanting nothing more
than to keep me safe.

i thought you like a father once.

further speculation has lead me
and my scientific mind
(my hands dividing everything into base pieces,
claiming and sorting and arranging)
to believe that you take the stance more of
a
(heaven forbid)
protective
(loving
husband)

the hardest thing to do
is to look you in the eye