if it was the blast of cold air from the open window
or the fingers pressing into my air tubes
that snapped me out of my marbled dreams
and let me know that
something was wrong.
we've always talked through glass;
palms pressed against transparent boundaries,
hoping the screen would break,
praying that one of us would fall into the other.
but when i realized
that i couldn't always follow the stepping stones that fell from your eyes,
i got scared of drowning in your tears
i found a place away from you;
sixty feet above sea level -
the most solid ground that i could find.
seven days i spent there,
trying to work my way into the floor cracks,
using my broken fingernails to split apart
panels that wanted to stay together
as the air stood still
around me.
when i returned,
i tried to explain things to you;
to explain that no matter how hard we tried,
heartstrings and dandelion chains
just couldn't hold us together.
but your eyes hooked onto my collarbone
and your glare was stronger than my bruised marrow.
you reeled me in effortlessly.
i could sit crosslegged on your doorstep in the five am frost,
folding my feelings into a million paper cranes to throw at your window
but that would not make you understand.
instead you pull me apart.
you unravel the cling-film that i wrapped tight around my bones for times like these
and you peel off my skin to see what lies underneath.
it surprises both of us to find tightly coiled wires and plastic tubing
instead of lungs or airways
and a steel sphere where my heart should be.
you take me to a doctor.
they call it evolution.
Honorable mention
Gold trophy winner
Silver trophy winner
Bronze trophy winner
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