if i had my way
there would be no more music.
no misconstrued, heart born
mathematics of need

i’d place you
just you
in that window
like a candle to say

this is a safe place
not predictable
but a place
where you will not be broken

until the music ends
and the harsh lights
expose the flaws,
and tracts

trampled in the mosh pit:
“The Sisters of The Sacred Cross invite you
to an evening
of quiet contemplation.”

you talk about something that interests you
but what you are actually saying is,
“this is a part of me,
do you love this part of me?”
and the response is a blank stare
or a quiet correction
and you know
somewhere there was a failure,
somewhere you found a fault line,
and it is time to end the conversation
or present another test.

how many failures before the structure collapses?
or are the fissures beautiful,
an invitation to explore,
an opportunity for adventure?
“this is a part of me,
do you love this part of me?”
why do I care if you love me?
the constant need to connect and reconnect,
I could have been someone
if you had been here,
but let’s talk about something else.