She could fall apart,
she could spill out all of her insides.
You’re not quite so easily there:
She could care less,
she could be looking out for your soul.
Her early morning mind is set to ease her somehow:
Eager to make her feel better,
show her what she can think
It doesn’t do anything but frighten her.
It’s never done anything else.
Put on the mask, disappear
into someone else. It’s all she can do
to stop the tapping on the radiator
dripping of the ceiling or all that was left,
the music, thought that passed from her lips
into our world,
She was an imitator, an unlucky thief and creator.
But that’s how she always lived,
take something someone else had done and make it her own.
She doesn’t want your ways she wants her ways
the way she made something with her hands firmly
She was an imitator.
She didn’t consider it anything important
she just thought it was hers.
She gave him what she could:
She was his for one night
she was eager, an unlucky imitator, and she could fall
apart.
February 9
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