Silk Tents

I learned to be tough in the sheets.
In the long silent hours when it was just me and nothing else and no one else.

In the tents that I built myself from my spider web heart-thoughts beating, spinning out into constellations, contracting in tight to cocoon me up inside.

I learned toughness in heartbreak. In cracking open and spilling out until nothing existed but pain, and then waking up and filling myself up, ounce by ounce, slapping on patches, leaking less and less.

Sometimes I'd fill up and brim over. Run as fast as i could to you and pour a little pain into the rich green grass. It's funny how the pain could be an emptiness or a fullness. It's funny how I can still smell your grass.

I'd go home and cover myself in my sheets. So silky and smooth and dark. I'd float in the darkness. Pulsing out spider silk. My heart beating out my thoughts.