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?