you grew into silicone

 

so tired, aren't you?
can't pass more than a smile a day
without ending up in the bedroom
compulsively
peeling thin bark
from little twig-ends.

and breaking promises against your hips,
counting rings under your eyes

when quietly a new ring
appears and
another year slips
under your tongue.

haven't really slept for weeks,
motioning towards a better
rest.
but the bed mattress is hidden with
your skeletons.

i watched you put it there.

so tired.
you kneel at night, i've seen it
soundly

like there's a ghost watching
lifting your hair
in handfuls like

dirt in a (dead)
garden;
an abandoned sandbox.

you remember it like this

don't you?