held

I cant be held

because I am an empty space

and even on the better days

when I become this stack of brittle bones

I wont let you hold me

you know my lungs collapse each morning

when I realize that my dreams

were just dreams

and I am nothing more

than myself

and I can’t be held

and I won’t let you hold me

you know I’ve never told you

but beneath this cape

stitched out of false passivity

I am just a ribcage

that holds my raw, bloody core

shaped like an avalanche

but I can’t be held

I won’t let you hold me.

you know,

I’ve got training wheels

nailed to my ankles

so I’ll stop falling apart

in public places

and I can’t be held

and I won’t let you hold me.

I won’t let you hold me

knowing you’ll drop me

and I’ll shatter upon reaching the ground

If I wanted to break,

I would do it myself.

I won’t let you hold me.

I can’t be held.