(no subject)
it's night time, all the time when i'm with you. the streetlights don't matter and our insides don't matter and i'm running from someone, from something, with you but it doesn't really matter how or who and i'm climbing fire escapes and missing appointments to see you- the next day i'm not sure that you saw me too and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. i'll turn the light out when i absolutely have to- when dusk feels flourescent and my skin itches to be invisible again, when i return your glance and become ash or water- something that slips through open fingers, something not so real- i tell myself that i've got to get out of you and i've got to get out of this before i'm caught forever forever, it's all spiderwebs and i've got paperweight wings and i'll catch fire for you if you'll let me.
is this what you want?
pinned to a page, little crumpled unusable me, serving no purpose with no name or address?
our details change. i am paper temporary. i can move to another coast, change my name, cut my hair out of my face and you'll never know.
but i'll always have my broken nose and my nervous fingers and i'll always be ready to jump ship at the drop of a hat.
high tide worries me; i feel floods coming every twelve hours.
i skip town and try to fall in love with someone/something else, a little different maybe.
and in the end i'm still the same origami swan. admirable but too delicate to do anyone any good.
leave me on your desk forever or just misplace me; i will always find my way home- any home will do these days.