the deconstructionist

when you were a little girl
i'd play inside your hair
and dig little holes to your brain
like an underground treehouse
it was never a question, then
more like a declaration of principles
and i'd publish it around the world
on all the newspapers, all the shows

and i loved to give you paper cuts
as your body slipped through my fingers
away, like a book made of jell-o
i buried myself in your pages
paragraphs, sentences, words, letters
punctuation marks and empty spaces
before you turned your head away
closed your eyes underneath my hands
i threw myself at a closing cover
and the cover closed over my face
brought me darkness and peace

you welcomed me to your world
and i thanked you
by creasing your pages
and ungluing your spine
that's what love is