in the many
prisms that
are my
face

you break
through as
light

severing the
lies

and peeling
back the masks
I wear like a
disrupted
clown

so many nights
I tear and laugh
at the busting of
seams along my sides

but this
is no matter
to your heart

embracing me
like a sore

to heal

wrapped
up in band-aid
love

(even though
progress is
the better getting
worse)

my worry-sick
and fragmented
skull
held in the
depth of your
palm

dry and smelling
sweet of some
scent sweating
through your veins

always like an orchid
distant and mysterious

gathering me into a soft
touch of arms

pulling back
the shell

and revealing
the broken
boy underneath

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