My wrists swell, like the lids of my eyes
After a hard, repressed cry surfaces;
Tears find their way out,
as naturally as a snakes skin, they must be shed,
for fear the heart will become saturated,
or the salty droplets will extinguish
the embers that warm the insides,
Why though- does my flesh expand,
Heavy, puffed as if I’m padded to be tackled,
to prepare my innards from outward attack?
When the insides put up a fight of its own
It’s like the shadow of my 20’s self,
It’s emphatic, on guard, fluffed and cooing;
pomped feathers to protect my bones
For fear life will chip away at them.
I never thought I’d see the day
I felt more brittle
like a shelf of once adored miniature figurines
Layers of dust, blanketing their charm,
Perhaps I should write a letter to my first love
And thank him again?