But, me

When you are me, everything with me dies organically
Some I help tune out, others tune out themselves
Between wanting to be someone and my life’s inadequacy
I let things be, I let everything be free

When love arrives, I prefer to let it slip by comfortably
When confronted, I choose peace
Between being what I can and what I must be
I choose to just remain wherever I am supposed to be

I fly, shimmering, my lofty iridescent purple feathers
I perch on gargoyles, look at dead, unswaying trees
Between death and resignation of myself
I mock the sun as it tries to burn my wings

I see you have found my nesting spot somehow
I find another where I can be me
Between the performance and dress-up
I relinquish my need for your eyes on me