It’s only ever games with you
each time we meet, more matches
and all I have to show for them
are these bandages and scratches.
Indications of the damage done
but only if you’re looking closely,
can you see just how far they spread?
Cuz I keep them hidden mostly.
Is it shame for what I have let you do?
Or fear that I am beginning to like
everything that you are doing
Each time you make a strike.
At night I batter myself for this show
that I am letting us put on each day
it’s all a dangerous game to partake in,
one misstep to ruin this harrowing ballet.
For I have broken all of these bones before
and still played all throughout the nights.
So now every time you toss me up I recall
how you forced me to my fear of heights,
for so easy is the fall back down
that even you can be caught unprepared.
So when I am free falling back to the ground
you find that you are likewise impaired
and I’ll leave with another cut, another bandage
another scar, one more broken bone or bruise
and I’ll ask those questions that have no answer,
repeat the words that are tired from how you abuse.
And I know that all of this is just another game,
but still I partake in our ballet. I take my place,
I re-tie the bandages and hide the scars,
I’ll get over my fear of those heights; embrace
the space between the stars and earth that
welcomes me when I come to visit where
no mortals may tread for long out of fear
that the descent will be filled with despair.