Funhouse

i'm not sure
where i went-
it's familiar here
in a funhouse-mirrored way
the way the clouds wrap around the sky
and hide what's really there

i'm not as afraid of the dark
as i was
but i'm afraid enough, still
that i keep my eyes closed
just in case

if i could speak, i'd tell you-
everything.

shared telepathy, and i think we might have
broken what it was.

there are pieces on the ground and in my hands and i am
positive
(i think-
as positive as i ever am, in my bleak and faithless way)
that all that's broken are the parts
that we don't need anyway.

if i could borrow faith from you
if i could tap into your optimism
your unrelenting trust that we are-
that we are
i would hold it for a moment
feel its warmth
and hand it back

all it takes are seconds
and it keeps me here forever.