Plan Your Apocalypse

A poem for when the world falls through your fingers

Only once have you seen me with full make up
Only once, and then we smudged it
And as it smeared down my eyes
We saw the usual skin underneath.
And do we know each other fully when we see the true skin
Or when we see the disguises?
So rarely worn around the house together
So that when we go out it’s still uncomfortable to look at each other.
I’m lifting up my ribcage
So that the sleet stings my exposed organs
Moving as if they were a different being to me,
Red and alive like the blood that steams on the snow.
I am red, and I am alive.
Plan your eclipse,
World turning.
Let it carry on without us all.
Don’t you take comfort from that?
Life is a tightrope
Or eggshells.
On to the next, on to the next.
And yet I have tucked my wings underneath me,
Closed my eyes.
Listen as my breathing gets steadier.
I will not pretend, I will not put on a smile,
And you will not believe me when I say I am content,
As if I am yours, to see what you will in.
I have not lost me
I always was me
Always was the same face that I knew.
You cannot have me until you can trust me,
Until you can see that the world is not ending,
And we are nearly new.


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