Saving Grace

I wrestled my lips

into a sugary smile, but

the sweetness stung.

like honey I would move

and golden I could look,

but in the end I was

a product of the bees.

the fall of a coin,

an early autumn chill,

in my bones wreaked beautiful havoc,

persistently inspiring,

but my hands were never molded.

like some piece of pottery forever spinning,

I could be thin one day and fat the next.

no control.

but knick after knack

squeezed me into panic,

no air unless plagued and,

chemicals, chemicals, chemicals unfamiliar

desperation, 

leaky pipes,

I would sing,

re-mi-fa-so-la-

te I would sing,

but oh, your confidence,

your bliss whispers

wrinkles eased,

they smothered me with tulips,

the breath I always needed.

more satisfying than the moon,

you were my Emily Dickinson, Wild Nights!

the buzzing was silenced and the pottery molded.

finally.

finally I lived.

but, gifted artist, why do you do this?

why do you stay in my suffering 

to catch my crippling tears, inflaming my gut?

they must burn you too.

you must hurt.

you look at me with my reflection, glowing.

I tremble.

“Because I love you.”

I tremble.

you speak, butterfly kisses on my lips,

I wish to engrain them on my eyelids,

“Because I love you.”

I shall never lose sight of love,

I shall never lose sight of this love.

because for all the sick that I am, you are sane.

kiss me and settle me into your arms,

this is healthy,

this is what it should be,

guiding light I need you.

never leave,

please,

never leave.