You were facing the sky
As if my gray were your blue
I tried to scratch away at the iron facade that bound us
As if it were a scab
and if I were lucky-
The sky would crack
And your blue- your luxuries- your wishes; your hopes inexorably
would be the death of you.
Your failings would fill my containment
With a soothing liquid
Until I floated and flooded, over the walls that confined my being
and your misgivings would be transfigured into my joyous contentment.
