Stupid

you fold yourself small

make yourself tragic

steal my suffering and

wear it like a costume.

I let love turn me stupid

let it buckle my knees

head bowed at the altar

of your hands

hands that always know

exactly where to press

and how to hold.

even now

after you’ve dirtied it

I slip back under

let the chlorine burn of your eyes

wash over me like it hasn’t

already made me

want to disappear.

I write because I have no better god

I should be standing

walking

running

hating you so much

it turns me red.

but I still want you

to press me to your chest

to cradle me like a child

to whisper pretty lies

to call me your girl

as if nothings changed

as if nothing will.