thread and sand.

a thread of light
through fingers so used
to curling into fists
and clenching absolutely nothing.
(like a comet of spidersilk threading around
my rash-red knuckles
...i'm an idiot
but more so a masochist)
i dared
to hold
you
take you up into my arms
and make you
my world.
i dared to assume we were
playing for keeps.
but still i caught myself
breathing lightly, so as not to break you
walking carefully, so as not to shake you
and shutting off, so as not to lose you.
i did anyway.
sorta like when you promise
never to be your parents
but then you do.
or how you always end up what you can't stand.
i think i jinxed myself
although i don't, i can't, remember
smashing any
falling stars.
only blowing on them
like dandelion fluff wishes
and dipping them
in red candle wax.
but i had always known you'd leave
because eventually
the light
became wet sand
pouring through my cracks.





(i am beginning to forget what it feels like
to hold. i just remember what it feels like
to have nothing, and know it.
it's not any easier.)