did you see me cry, doll?
can you let me fall, doll?
is it just a game, love?
sitting on the floorboards,
blinking at the window,
crashing down the stairwell,
flying through your mood swings,
I’m not going anywhere,
because this is where I stand.

what’s this have to do with love,
what’s it doing to our minds,
I’m not going anywhere, love,
so don’t try leaving anytime.

on sunny days, you wore the stars,
and chilly nights, you danced in light-
your feet were always bare.
“crone,” you’d chant.
the moon/crone would stare right back,
and you’d crumple and you’d fall.

these words they seem to come from air,
incoherent, random, scrawled from air.
air is in a giving mood.

did you hear me click my tongue?
could you let me bite my lip?
will you play this game with me?
X goes first, 1, 2, 3.