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“i am something very gentle, very jealous of the selfless way my heart pumps blood for my ungrateful body, of how the bones in my spine uplift my head, despite how i insist we're crumbling, we're crumbling, always crying over spilled milk, when i could be strong like stainless steel or spider silk, when i could be kevlar instead of the honeycombed human digging out bullets, when i could be the tornado instead of Dorothy missing Kansas, when i could be a bone-dry Martini instead of the one retching, when i could be something like you, the shoulder to lean on and not the one reeling, the one picking up eggshells and never the one breaking.” — t. e. talbott
i am something very gentle, very jealous
of the selfless way my heart pumps blood
for my ungrateful body,
of how the bones in my spine uplift my head,
despite how i insist we're crumbling,
we're crumbling,
always crying over spilled milk,
when i could be strong
like stainless steel or spider silk,
when i could be kevlar
instead of the honeycombed human
digging out bullets,
when i could be the tornado
instead of Dorothy missing Kansas,
when i could be a bone-dry Martini
instead of the one retching,
when i could be something like you,
the shoulder to lean on
and not the one reeling,
the one picking up eggshells
and never the one breaking.