Shed

One step, shed.
The curtains undulate,
the pink sunset clouds
of the light reflected
illuminate my sky wall.
It’s dark. It’s Saturday afternoon.
One step, shed, kiss,
pull away.
I know it’s not force,
it doesn’t feel like force
I’m reacting like it might as well be
force.

One step, shed, peel,
pull away.
These layers seem endless.
I’m losing sight of my core
between sobbing fits.

The week before
I cried so much
I broke my nose ring.

One, two steps, shed,
peel, pull, raw.
Who, you and I, are,
two and three.

I’ve been sleeping
with my tongue pressed
against my teeth
and although I’m healing
and everything is going to be fine
I’m sleeping with my tongue
pressed against my teeth.

You help me undress
and, three step,
hold me through the nightmares,
and two step, tell me that
you love me and,
one step, I know
you are not going away.