Because it hurts.
You can't always listen to my music,
And I can't always listen to yours,
Even played by your hand,
If it snags on my brain in that way,
I might just have to disappear.
You'll wonder where I've gone,
What you've done,
What I saw that you missed,
Or imagined in the corners of your mirror.
Can't go East or West anymore,
Not without passing through brambles,
And my notebook is small
And has lived too long in my bag.
People are scared,
And I'm petrified.
I'm not sure what else to say,
How to explain,
Whether to apologize
Or just start walking at night since
The daylight isn't safe for ghosts.
Even when I look at you and
My face is a hollow mask,
You kiss me beneath my jaw,
And you offer me tea,
And I turn you down,
And I leave, because your mirror is staring,
Because I can still smell him in the hallway,
Because the thorns are getting into the house,
And our gardener hasn't yet woken from her Winter slumber.
I'll lie in a spiral of arrows,
Unsure which to pick up, which to fire,
For every word lands wrong,
And after so many hours of speech,
I'm still unknown to you.