And often as faulty as a house aged a hundred years,
Sketchy and light and like boards in the attic
You were afraid to step on for fear that they were rotten
When you thought they could hold your weight.
I am terrified of stepping over that catching line,
I am 4 years old and afraid of the closet darkness,
But I want to touch that forbidden phantom
Swaying a shadowy invitation
That may be as harmless and warm
Fetching as that fleece sweater
I forgot about that reminds me of everything I love so.
Soft and inviting, but I am pinned to a prison like bed in a comforter
That's not living up to it's name.
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