Locked Drawers

Cover me in silk and dust, silver and musty
But mostly a shimmering layer that I'm swathed in
I'll pick at the seams of the curtain that coats me in burgundy velvet
Soft and rough depending on the way that you stroke it
I'm stoking the embers with tenderness, care
To keep tenderness there inside a corner of me
Forgetting and forgotten how all of this once was only natural coming
Naturally, I've been adapting
The day I was born I was torn into behaviours
I poured myself full into a glass of apple juice
And I was sleek and clean, easy, like the person before me
Folded my skin into a neat little drawer and locked it
These cracks in crushes velvet tend in different directions
These sections of seams are anxiously undone
These are not symptoms, do you need me to prove it?
It's and untethered retaliation against moving
Keeping loud, keeping feral
Skin soft and vulnerable
Stripped of sleek clothing, unlearning technique and etiquette composing
Held untold and untelling
Holding hands holding
Tell me it's like this
Please tell me what it's like