I was not sleeping

When the world crumbles
it cracks the creases of the
undone red-swimming-yellow,
color and crumble
to make the heart
shake, shatter, to settle
into the back corner
of its cage-

Did you know
that you
and the world
could move
a heart so?

The gestation of a
thought turned word
absurd, if consistent
nice, with distance
wrong at present-
"Wake yourself"
but I was not sleeping-

I was not sleeping.

But thinking-
my thought young, yes,
but breathing,
and if I forgave you
for pulling her from her place
(through nostrils?)
despite premature blood
that fell down the hollow
of my neck,
I could not forgive myself
for not having her back.