If I was in fact, crazy, I’d fold myself in your arms and weep on your chest.
i’d let my mind be taken by a disease but leave the rest with you.
I could manage it, conquer it, if all of it was in my head.
i could look at you and know you understand i can’t help it.
though exhausted and bruised, you’d still let me lay my head down in peace.
i’d look at you, search your eyes for hope and find it.
your finger tips would be soft on my hair as you pull it away from my face.
my tears are allowed to fall in the cup of your hand.
my eyelashes swim in waves of diseased memories
but i’m with you and you love me, even though i’m crazy
i’m not crazy. i can’t see the wall in front of me because tears have distorted everything.
panic is just another night time ritual
and the knowledge that you will never rescue me covers my heart in grief
i’m shaking, my hands are shaking,
eyes closed, head down low,
i could let go and dissolve, then float to the floor like sawdust
the old rug waits uplifted for the swish of your broom.