Tell me I'm wrong

Falling in...
while you're fall in out.
Topsy Turvy sickness.
My heart and my mind playing with the trick-ness.
Swift, fall, quick.
Too late, too slick.
On the floor looking up,
One long pause, one deep cut.
Said too soon, not soon enough.
You're holding back while I'm pushing in.
He said, She said,
You've got to let go, to win.
I've let go, and have none left...
It's your turn.
I lit my match and watched in burn.
It's your turn.
Watch the rain...
Cinder, ashes, dust.
Went back to pick up the pieces,
grab my wrist, say this is not lust.
Up against the wall,
If you let go I'll fall.
Choking on what's left from the smoke,
hung out to dry, hung up on hope.
Heart on my sleeve tearing at the carpet as I watch myself leave.
Close the door.
Close the door...



Saree McClaran
January 2010