We think better

There is only a short distance before it is all black;
someone has taken a marker and scribbled through
the axis of my body;
I tell myself that it doesn’t matter that it is you
squashing my breath until it is a foreign language.

But of course it does and it’s all in the wrong order,
cropped to the wrong size,
my makeup a vertical bruise hanging across me.
My smile a blue thistle wreathed,
I think if it wasn’t Christmas you would drop me.

I spend my morning mapping my thoughts-
I hope when this letter reaches you,
you do not notice my words falling like breath.
I hesitate about whether I should tell you,
all of the things I’ve wanted to say but think better of.