I’d open your heart with such surgical skill
I sit perched on the edge of a mountain;
On the ruins of safety once clung to for life.
There’s a doorway where I lay;
What lies beyond, I cannot say
The social butterfly,
The lover the son the friend; pretend.
Dandelions waltz as we poison our thoughts
With each other’s.
Saying goodnight over and over;
Trying so hard
To not try at all.
Sat atop a pedestal of peerlessness;
Look down, scoff, at all of their cheerfulness
You’re not leaving the house,
Looking like that.