"I am as constant as the northern star"

I think that if my feelings were liquid,
they would be blood.
And the red of them
would be drenching my white Armani blouse right now.
I think if my heart were a playground,
it would be closed at 3 p.m. each day
and on the days you get bored with me.

But it would be open
each and every rainy day,
without exception.

I hate power.
When you have it all,
my cells move in the opposite direction of your touch.
When I have it,
I use it like black magic
and ruin everything around me;
including you.

I think if aching has become my career,
I’d like to retire early.
I think I’d at least like to take my seven-day vacation
very soon.

I’ve never been a brick-layer,
a wall-builder…
there is no dam keeping my feelings
from spilling over the rocks,
or onto your plate during our dinner conversation.

I’m sorry.
Should I change?

I think if I do,
I might become a solid that can’t melt—
not under heat or pressure.
And that sounds pretty permanent.

When I swallow,
I wish it would work.
I wish The Moment and Forever
would stop rising in the back of my throat
every time I breathe.