And my lips said go but I said no,
and you just stood there looking merciful
as I felled myself with a dull axe
of indecision and animosity.

I wanted so much to reach out and
to touch the crumpled chrysalis behind me,
crawl back indoors where it never snowed,
where the ceiling stared back
when I look up in servitude;
those walls were all too kind
as the reached inside and tugged away at
everything I was taught
I couldn't live without.

With books and mislead poetry
fluttering at my side,
I took on what little of the world
I really longed to know
my neat lines drawn upon a map
in just four simple minded colors—
but of course you rained on my parade
with those stormy azure irises,
more enrapturing than any garden flower.

And then the sky fell down
around my almost open bones,
woke the rib-revealing emptiness
I'd never known enough to loath—
yet I wanted it so sanely as to
shudder in the shadows,
hiding from your excitable agility
until temptation looked me over,
walked away unsatisfied.