Sometimes I wonder what piece of me you fell in love with first.
I thought maybe it was my left eye.
I know that my left eye saw you as its focal point,
because it was the one in search of a fairytale.
It wanted towers and knights and dragons, sword-fighting…
maybe you found my heart next,
because my eye led you on the path to find my heart slayed by a
knight next to the woodland bunnies
and singing birds looking for Snow White,
but she was busy hiding from the witch
mixing my chipped teeth
in with her brew.
My heart told you that my right hand was lonely-
the left got lost in a chipmunk hole and now it had nothing to hold
when it was scared of the evil step-mothers.
My feet were half-way across Paris
because all they did was run.
Maybe when you looked at the pictures in the clouds,
you saw my stanzas in the stacks.
The sun did its best to shine its brightness on my right eye,
because it only glowed with the darkness of
I scraped my knuckles on the sharp edges of the world,
but my shoulders climbed out of the mot to find
you lifting the weight completely off of them.