if

if

having pulled back the curtains,

having twisted open the jars,

having washed you of all your sins;

if

having seen the sun splash your eyes,

having watched the dust settle in your palms,

having taken you apart, bit by bit by bit--

if

i pull back

because suddenly,

you are not enough,

you are not enough--

will you still think of me as you do now?

Author's Note

blahblahblah. i need to stop writing bad poetry.