In Theory a Miracle

You on the right bicker back.

Your conflicts include: whether to eat now or 

now. 

You can sit on a pin while eating cupcakes,

full of rotting fruit.

Fat flies grind— 

on top of what used to be my diamond.

Because now, 

 you are aware of your limits,

and

feeling mostly like a coma patient without a soul. 

I know when people touch you,

you wish you could deflate.

Small clouds invisible to us, 

they combine with other sighs. 

I feel like I might create a lot of these clouds trying to stay calm,  

if that is the case then—

they most likely come out black. 

 You on the left hold me