You asked me to dance
and I wanted to dance.
You asked me to sing
but I didn’t know the words.
You asked me to love you
and I didn’t know how.
You spoke of friendship
but we never really spoke.
About the heart—
is it desperately wicked?
Or merely deceitful?
It is full of grasping.
I constantly fool myself.
Hold onto the wrong thing.
I have played the fool
too many times to count.
I am so full of foolishness—
Incandescent.
Bones burning within me
in the depths of silence.
Lay me on the anvil.
Fashion me a sword
or leave me a ploughshare.
Just break the skin.
