You thought you would break me,
Boy, you don't even know me.
Aeons ago, I dropped my heart into a stream
and rode in a wicker picnic basket to the sea.
Thought your mouth had found the last line
I forgot to sever, but we were just
playing pretend.
No use hiding in the closet, because
even the pretend things can hurt you
and I whistle as I sew my shadow
back onto the soles of my feet
and you don't let the pane
hit you on the way out.
Forever in motion, when do we
Rest? Where is the mermaid's grotto,
cold seaweed bed, octopus garden,
and the waves forever crashing,
pounding wicker walls into sand
cradling the heart, still breathing
although underwater.
I'm sitting at my window. I'm waiting
for the wind to sweep me off my feet.
Second star to the right and
straight on 'til mourning,
Boy, why are you crying?
I haven't broken yet.
