A Lesson In Boundaries- © rejj original poem

I hold this paper between us
like a saber
because we are already
standing too close.
I open my mouth
and there you are beneath me,
baby bird,
waiting to be fed
this regurgitated nutrients.
There is a need in you,
naked and primal,
a longing for what is mine
and I don't trust you
not to take too much.

So I hold this paper between us
like a barbed wire fence,
hoping as you press
your face against it,
the tang of metal,
the piercing of iron and electricity
will guard against
your wayward curiosity,
will poke your eyes shut
when they have seen enough.

I hold this paper between us
like an old lady opens the door
to her apartment,
never removing the chain,
locks still in place,
only cracking it a sliver
long enough to see who
is on the other side,
and shit it's you again,
like a bill collector,
no, like a loan shark.
You are asking for payment,
but willing to take limbs,
blood, pain.
You would just as easily
see me stretched and broken.
It would be equally as beautiful to you.

So I hold this page between us
as a reminder
that what I am willing to give you
is finite,
is not the never ending story,
all access Disney pass
to my soul,
is 9 x 11 with 1 inch margins,
a beginning, a middle, and
an end.

And as I whisper my words to you,
do not mistake me for soft spoken.
Feel the sledge hammers wrapped in velvet,
at the core of every stanza,
feel the bite of me,
the gilded ginzu knives
I juggle with a grin
and know
if I were to speak any louder
I might deafen you,
if I were to share much more,
the rain of falling knives
would slit you into ribbons,
so I hold this paper between us
as much for your safety
as for mine.