The laid back calm sits in your lap
like silence-laced skin or shades
of indifference. Whichever it is,
I don’t get it. I can’t wrap my mind
around the steadfast ways of your
‘everything will be fine’
tone of voice long enough to ready
my throat for the swallowing of
my own disaster. And sometimes
there’s a lasso on your tongue that
keeps grabbing me to say,
“you are hysterical!”
Well, yes I am.
That’s what it looks like
underneath my skin.
World hysteria day every fucking day.
Welcome home to the place
you never would leave
when I asked you to.
Welcome to me, the one you chose
for better or worse and the worst
of me hasn’t even broken out yet.
Welcome to my heart, a closed book
you never learned to read.
The lesson is over.