There are demons sleeping beneath my bed.
When I close my eyes
their threads stretch over my body
crawl down my throat and send roots
into my stomach--
the darkness grows there,
drinking of my insides
and the seeds scatter into my eyes
until they open pedals of black in my irises--
I am tired of sleeping
and finding no rest...
But this is where I come from
and medication can move my body
but it cannot seem to move my mind
the insides of me are too heavy for medicine
to bear away
and the burden falls on me so
When I hear the footsteps outside my bedroom door
And when I hear your hands
touch the doorknob
I am holding my breath;
My little bird.
I am so sorry--
but I cannot quite hold the vastness
of you inside my head.
Every minute detail of your features
the temperature of the skin on your shoulders
the small hands I used to kiss;
Even now, with a year of nights gone by
the demon is only growing as it devours me.
You'll have to wait outside the door a little longer.
Just give me a few more nights to regather
the strength you told me
you could feel when you touched my fingertips
though they would tremble every time they held yours
though you were infinitely smaller
your soul is even heavier than mine;
And I cannot contain you.
Not even with my eyes closed.