Skeletons

There is something that separates like an old woman among a play ground of children.

Deeply touched and hardened and some how envious of the mistakes innocence allows.

I want to bleed here. My own blood, but all that comes out is stolen and I find myself jealous of the classroom skeletons and the slowness of time.

You, you my dear are my fattening ecstasy, my impish grin, my light rice paper sheet that I must tread softly on.

For you, you give me my weight.

But he, he takes it away to the soft smothering slow downfall of himself. I am the ice cube needing to loose just a bit and he is my willing titanic.

But I know that you think we are not fated things and your fear of uncontrolled hope…

One day you will be brave enough to not only look…But see