I am easily come undone
a piece of clothing fastened with velcro
one size fits all
able to absorb too many times too much
I am weighted by the gown of receptivity, sensitivity,
blackness to repel you
softness to embrace you
a piece of velcro which winds about the neck, the chest, the heart
is easily pulled apart
my heart is easily ripped apart
I am dismembered from my chest in a kind of self arrest
from the crest of the blackness of self
I am a twin, a clone of all I adore
or a curtain to all I abhor
a curtain of black which can’t
be pulled back
a garb I can’t retract
a guard I can’t relax
I am alone but not alone in coming apart
see this tear across my heart.
I am a piece of clothing
not a shield and I am the one beneath the cloth
the elusive, hiding, squirming self
no one can find
and finding no one i am too tight, too soft, to clingy, too loose
never say too loose
too recluse but not too loose.
the others – loose jointed, unafraid
I squeak at most
I am a cloth flung limp across the arm
I am, I think, in need of serious repair,
a pair of faded jeans,
white at the wrinkles, deep in the creases, holes in places,
patches in bright colours,
underneath, material, threadbare
I am barely hanging on, barely hanging in
a pair of jeans fitting too loose one day, too tight another,
a rag doll, mouth sewed shut, thick seam here.
I am sewed tight across the chest, the waist, the legs,
sometimes it’s hard to move in this body.
I’ve been washed too many times
becoming limp and hard to stay on anyone
hard to stay with any one
to hang together.
I am easily ripped apart.