sitting in a treehouse
raindrops caught on leaves and branches
instead of her head.
love spilling from her shirtsleeves,
crammed underneath fingernails
lodged in the space behind her ear,
for a girl who loves comic sans.
the platform is heavy, strained
from the weight of her suppressed expectations
she knows from the dark circles
under her eyes, reflected in the sky
disappointment is the root of most heartache
she's trying to cut it off early,
intercept it like an amateur athlete's pass
rip out nine stitches in her own time
rather than watch them taken
into less gentle hands
waiting for the moment when she can let out
the breath she swore she wouldn't hold.