help me
i am trapped in a hardcover
on a shelf in your heart
and my lungs are filling with
the wilted flowers that tumbled from my hair
that day that we kissed in our tree
beneath the sky that veiled us both
and the leaves that kept us pressed together
the tiny flowers that landed on the sidewalk
and marked my footsteps,
the trail from me to you (like
breadcrumbs in a fairy tale
so i would never forget my way back to you)
as i ran in bare feet on cement boiled in afternoon heat
because you are perfect and
my ribs erode with
i-can't-touch-you.
