I can never sleep.
(unless I'm with you
but I have nightmares
in your arms and
your breath suffocates me
for hours after I leave
your bed;
my need for you
disgusts me.)
You're my lover,
my creator.
When I hatched
I saw your eyes--
I knew your love.
Now you're pushing me from
the nest too early
(my wings are still bare and
bony, my body too fat to fly).
But you call it "cute,"
a chubby little cupid,
so I jump to see you smile.
I'm climbing back up,
broken and bruised,
listening to you sing
I-told-you-so's.
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