today for me, tomorrow for thee

it is not an epitaph. i refuse

because i fought for my fight, for my
body, my dance, and you are the one
who exists in a state of romance
but it was the couch cushions which saved you
and it’s not that i don’t understand
but when there are so many people who
would hold your hand
you should take one
or more
and just try to stand on the floor
where, perhaps, the pain would go away

just try
and i know it was in your head
but mine was in my stomach
because i’m a moron
but never on purpose

so i keep trying to say “hush”
to all things bittersweet
hot sweet, and just sweet
and i try so hard
but she
just wants me to be small
and how the hell is that fair
to let so much bitterness poison the winter air
as i pull my red fingernails through my hair
kiss the window
and wish i could say

please, just once
cause a riot for me
build me a fort to hide behind
protect me
like i have a hundred times for you