i am cradling this dying thing
in shaking hands; i don’t know
how i got here with all this blood
on my hands, but my fingerprints
are everywhere now and i know
you’re still breathing. i can’t do this
on my own, i’m not strong enough now.
i don’t think i ever was. wake up.
wake up and take this burden from
these unstable fingers, help me
rinse away this guilt with that soap
your mother always buys, the kind
that smells like lavender and the sweet
honey kiss of sunshine. wake up.
i am only fragments that we’ve gathered.
i don’t know how to arrange these
little broken things into a whole person.
i don’t know how to keep them all
together like this. i am shaking so hard
i am going to fall apart. i can’t do this
on my own. wake up. wake up. wake up.