Vulnerable

You just crossed the line with a stumble. Whats that like? To know its our fault this time? Will you be born to run? Stretching your legs with a gaping mouth of wide-awake yawns and silent screams?

Your damp wings peel from your sides like stained scabs and stories. You fell; waited for the wind to catch under your wings but you enjoy it too much; the adrenaline stains your teeth black and now I can't see you smile at night. Did I ever?

This must be what you wanted? To drown. To rain. To take me down with you; to watch me struggle against my own palms, to watch me fold inward; to watch me choke on my poetry and pocket lint, and secrets too deep to be reached with short attention spans and fingers.

Bloody wine pumps through your veins. How can I let you down, when you are yet to stand up; too hung under with your shallow puddles and self sympathetic thoughts only the dead are allowed to argue over. Your grave is a dance floor of numb priorities. You lost yours; I found them in the road.

These words cannot be heard without an echo. You want me happy;
 
knees bending-chin tilting on it's axis- you were my world- oceans swelling and raising in hurt beats and heavy waves- smokey clouds suffocate the air I'm not allowed to breathe-unless you can breathe it too. You fall, and wonder where the blood is.

It's here.
With me.