I am not your babe, that swaddled up thing
That you believe will bring you comfort
when you need, and leave bare when you don’t
A blanket stare,
with the resemblance of a feeling
But, lacking anything to feel or rely on
I know you, this beat underneath the mess
This truth no one else has seemed to find
Somedays I have even called you my own
My breath in each ache,
With no air to my lungs
My chest concaves with the pieces of my heart I kept giving
Alone, I think,
Dry to the touch,
With friends wanting to hold my hand
The world around me slips from focus
Out of view I must move
And yet fully I am present in my own dream’s wake.
For heaven sake
Or the way it stirs
I am ready to be heard