sometimes the waiting
presses tight against me
presses tight against me
like a balloon one breath too full:
to be touched is to shatter
but if yours were the touch,
i’d gladly burst into a thousand
i’d gladly burst into a thousand
fluttering confetti shapes
in celebration, if only you would
be so gracious as to be
the one who breaks me
in celebration, if only you would
be so gracious as to be
the one who breaks me
