May 17, 2012

Cinnamon Rose

I picked you up
to make somebody love me.
I picked you up because
somebody didn't.

You bit my fingers like
maybe you loved me.
You bit my fingers
like you meant business.

You made me feel
incompetent.
You made me feel
like an eager pupil.

You made my hands feel
insignificant.
You made my hands feel
like they could be useful.

You made me sound
inadequate.
You made me sound
like I was learning language.

You made old words
seem true and eloquent.
You made old words
seem like new magic.

You pulled me out
before a crowd of strangers.
You pulled me out
like a splinter.

You pulled me out
before I knew there was danger.
You pulled me out
of my long winter.



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