We tried this and it failed.
The fencing from the outside seemed solid and pure, newly polished and ready to shelter. We made a life with intertwined lips and laced fingers. There is a remarkable spark that builds in your toes and bleeds out your palms.
I tried and failed.
I gathered what I could in mason jars. I placed them on my highest shelf. I forged from steel what layered the ground and twisted up to bedposts. Something was there in deserts old and sand storms new, but it blew past too quickly to build strong walls that hold the memories just right.
We tried this and it shattered.
It was made of glass but thick to the touch. Reflections mastered your face and your face fell into reflections. Lost in seas of misguided not-so-true . . . truths. To you. In what you built from childhood teachings and what you chose to never let go. What still brings night terrors and feverish defeats.
I tried and shattered.
There was a road that melted like lava to a page filled with perfect smiles and bridge-drawn castles. I was invited to make roots in brick, then shunned when I could not succeed.
Flags waved me into a world I too often want to
lie down in.
Give up on.
Break down with.
Now build me again.