Neon Lights

PART TWO; ALEXANDER MOON GA

i am a tall child with no lap to crawl into and cry in,
So i make a big show of wounded skin, hoping
somcone pries in.
shame clots in my blood, i am humiliated, just by
existing

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Read my hand-: can't you tell
they will soon reach to touch her?

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Sometimes being ofered tenderness
feels like the very proof that you've
been ruined.

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iwant my name to mean something
when you say it--more than empty words
on your tongue, spoken with the desperation
of a prayer and coloured rashly, like
open floodgates, like splattered fruits

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I  take off my hands and I give them to you but you don'
want them, so I take them back
ind put them on the wrong way, the wrong wrists.

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and, my dear, i wouldn't ask you to fold me in the
pages of your favorite book, just the embedment of
fingers between my ribs.

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and i always knew longing had another name she
wouldn't let me call her by - it's hunger.
my heart grew up to be far more starved than my
stomach.
it's the things you learn in your childhood , friom the
words of your mother, firom the hands of your father.

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How did you get so close
That
I have to dissect you
From
Under my skin?