熱情砸爛的攤子/

you say you want to destroy me
in the front seat of your car
sometimes you want to break me
and now i know i've fooled you.
i'm a porcelain doll in the small hands of a girl
who is imaging me, make believe
i'm not alive, not really.
empty eggshell skin.
delicate. inanimate. disposable.
my chest is a hallow space that echoes.

you say you want to destroy me
and i think maybe i will help you
because i want so much to please you.
like a month ago, that was after
you cried and said your sister was fanatical
and your mother blamed you for not being around.
but you're so cute when you call later
drunk and worrying that
i'm disappearing you say
i'm disappearing
i guess you realized i wasn't breathing
that i have no lungs for air to fill and exhale
on the windows, fogged.
my church is this invisibility.
loving you exposes my inability to nurture.
like a little girl holds a plaything
gentle and inadequate
hides her love in complex folds
of fear so cleverly that soon
not even she can find her love
anymore.

and this is agony,
and this is safe.

you say you want to destroy me
and i think maybe i will help you.
help you means know you means
i'm afraid of you means love you
means i'm sorry.

you say you want to destroy me
and you are so alive
i don't know how you haven't yet.