Glass

I feel it lurch up inside me as its confines break,
though, in honesty, its enforced bondage
was half hearted at best.

Fine, I tell its sharp clear fluid embrace.
You are right, I need you.

Please help me move this form
so we can get there,
so we can buy some more,
and then your dripping calm can slither down,
wrap yourself around my throat
and meet your corporeal double
in my quivering stomach.

You can dance your magic in my veins,
pull up the covers in my mind
and I can rest in sublime stupor.

I apologise in advance
when I evict you prematurely,
I’m just scared, you see,
of your power over me.

I do so love the way
you calm the angry ocean’s waves,
tuck analysis in tight
and refuse to listen to it
calling out in the darkness,
flow into my limbs
and smooth over the gaps
in my ever strained control.

I do not like the way you pitch my insides skyward
when you’ve pooled densely enough,
or turn up the tears hair trigger,
or scratch desperately my oesophagus
in a duplicitous gasp to hold in
as you throw out.

But I forgive you,
as you knew I would,
because I have done so
each time we part.
I don’t really mean it
as I flush you away,
pour you out,
smash your earthly vessels.

Because as much as I hate you,
I love you,
and I need you so,
and nothing much patrols
the terrors in my head
like you do.

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