when i stare out at the sun, i can block it better than anyone when my eyelids turn to drapes.
when you're gorgeous in an eclipse, i can keep my shudders closed and swallow the key to sleep better on a full stomach.

then i say, "darling, i'm going to bed. don't forget to close those curtains made out of lead."
and i leave you reading a romance story, motionless because you see me floating.

dog-ear the page to see if i'm moving.
deadbolt panic when you don't hear me singing in my sleep.
and the door blows open wide and you fall inside, to sail above and see my arms stretched out holding on to the water.
it's too bad that i wrote it, and it happened twice.