Stardust

Please stop.
Listen:
I don't know if the chemical composition of my brain is off or the lights are too bright or the refrigerator is humming its humming its too cold its too loud but
its too much
Please stop
Please stop because every breath I take wheezes and rattles in my constricted throat
(but you can't hear it, can you?)
that my heart on frantic wings is flinging itself desperately against the confines of its cage
that my skin is crying out against the strain of containing the chaos and ruins,
the oceans, their depths infinite,
and towers of glass,
the stardust and my bones stripped bare
(but you can't hear it, can you?)
Not that I would ever allow you to in, anyways,
For that would require an open door
and if I opened that door, what else would follow?
What would hide in the dark what would slip in deep what else would sink in its teeth the second you leave for the night?
Because, you see, I don't know when you will return and my soul has only just shaken free from the teeth and the teeth and the teeth from before.
Please stop.
Put your hands around my waist and see what little is left.
I gave away the fruit, scarcely bruised,
the feathers I once collected,
the saplings I saved for you.
I hid the rest in the attic
where it collects dust.
So please,
the earth rotates upon its axis too quickly
and I,
a moth
a glass tower
an ocean,
would only slow you down.
I'll give you my stardust
I'll give you a glimpse
a taste
a touch
but please,
Please stop.