For whatever you're planning

Earlier I thought of you 
your grass stained skin 
unapologetic and far away. 
Earlier
I thought of how great it is
to hold your bones
and pretend.

What if I told you
no
and that was the end?
What if I told you the truth
and all those little birds left
my chest where they've resided
for a time picking
apart my insides?
I'd feel better, but I can't say 
with any certainty that 'better' is
something you'll ever be. 

Tell me what you were thinking biting
your lip eyes averted and hand 
clasped
around mine (limp like a fish after slaughter)

What if I told you I'm not as sad
as you think I am and in fact I don't 
need saving?
What if I told you you don't 
make my knees weak but rather instil a sense
of maternal worry in my wringing hands? 
What if I told you this poem isn't even about you, but a combination
of every one I've loved
cause you're all the fucking same.

Earlier I thought of you and 
it was fleeting. (I think about me now)