Let's not

tie my hands with flowers and fingers,
dress my legs in tiles,
love me like it's mid January
and let's pretend you're real and alive

there's a softness to my blankets
and a shadow in my pillow
swallowing the crown of flowers and nightmares
I made not to be forsaken

let's not pretend I'm sane enough
to function only on coffee and strange ghosts
that carry your image within the darkness
of my weary soul-
it's all for nothing,
it's a war fought with dust...

so cover my eyes with crispy lace,
undress my backbone with a knife,
hate me like I would myself
and bend the world to make it right