I'd like to think I was smoke
thick, dark, deep, meaningful,
and chokingly beautiful.
So I could dance into your eyes and make you cry
as you smile and sigh
at the shapes you can trace on my body,
through my body,
around my body.

before the wind took me
and blew me from having to make a decision
from being hurt or used or
learning to trust again.
It's hard enough wanting someone
to be there, hold you and trace your eyelids
when you sleep.

put yourself in my place,
trade emotions and feelings and pasts,
taste pain and happiness and longing,
then
maybe
you'd understand why I need
reassurance
even though I trust people
completely.

How many times have you been dropped,
shattered,
splashed out across the pavement,
and had to pick yourself up?
Maybe that's my problem...
I've always had someone there to do it for me.