we grow up with matches,
anticipating a time when the
flame will stop burning,
and the wick will end.
a feverish glow, that lights up
our senses and sends
us a call to put love
in the mend.
we grow up with fences,
to keep the safe falling in the
spells from lost strangers,
when they say loud our name.
a shallow wood, to hide skin
from danger with eyes
still wide open to
see what's inside.
we grow up with cotton,
to cover the beauty of
naked and scars that
leave broken in name.
a thin layer, it whispers
your safe from the
hatred of battered
the breath in your
own makers way.
we grow up,
and we look back.
"when the light pours through and scatters
shadows of leaves, I will think of you".
love, margot
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