Not a Risk to Myself, Apparently

it echoes when i breathe
and when you say that i'm pretty.
words as hollow as i feel
on the nights you're not here to hold me.

i like brown eyes and
hands that aren't always gentle
and words acting as curtains.
sometimes a squeeze can be a blanket.

sometimes a needle goes in
and it feels like when you said my name.
sometimes sex is fourth dimensional
and i'm not sure if i'm really there.

sometimes there are too many emotions and sometimes none at all,
right now none at all,
and always always feel like i'm drowning.
and always always fixed while you're here.

sometimes you're not here
and i steady shaking hands by scratching skin raw
and i dry tears by slamming my head into the headboard
and when you text i reply too quickly
and send you pictures that i think will make you smile,
to make up for the fact that i can't.

you hold my hand when we cross the road,
and you always look both ways.
sometimes i cross without caring or looking
and i'm disappointed when the rope snaps.

my eyelids are puffy and homesick
i'm not sure whether i just need a hug
or maybe two red pills
to take away the blues.
it echoes when i breathe.