aftermath

i cannot speak.
i cannot mouth
                            the words
cannot fit to you now,
or me,
          after
the mean face of sleep,
when a fierce slap of daylight
fights back the echoes of the night.
i cannot rest.
you cannot know,
but when you come in here,
to hear you is to dream,
drums that beat a heart to fright,
the bate to catch a mouth to choke,
to squeeze around a bruised throat,
to tighten breath to stop a chest.
you must go.
i cannot keep it in.
i cannot be
                  where
                            i want to be.
i cannot want you
                            to wear yourself down.
i must wear another face.
you cannot see me
                              like this.
i cannot look at you,
not knowing when the sudden flash of
arms feet flying past too fast
twisting, flaying, body braced, colour streams,
gone.
i cannot feel.
you cannot know
the numbness down here.
i cannot move.
you can.
your little movements, jigsaw fitting
with everyone else's little movements.
i cannot make
                       sense
                                 of you all.
you can make,
you cannot leave me
                                like this.
leave me alone.