A Loss

I’ve been holding you up
Where the light hit, I cut
I’ve been making you wings
And this all comes apart
With the slightest of touch
The clothing piles
On the pile of books
And you always feared
The sound of footsteps
I’ve been holding you up
Where the light hit, I cut
I’ve been making you wings
And months ago, in a
Orange chair
Your hair half in your eyes
You wondered
Why the world
Didn’t eat us up
On plastic knives
So
Why’d you come here?
Why’d you come?