I want to be the dust you kick up on your walk home from school
the pebble that creeps into the cracks of your beaten up sneakers
and the duct tape you use to hold them together.
I want to make you feel the same way the thought of hot coals makes your feet feel
unstoppable and scared.
I want you to rip off the blisters before they’ve healed so you can see skin before it’s strong enough to stop from feeling
you won’t feel anything over those callouses
except the sparks you strike up with the ground and rub into the dirt.
I want to make you leaden shoes to keep you from walking out again
or to give you time with each step to change your mind
coming down the hallway with the same cunning as a newborn baby
but the dependency is all mine
I can no longer be ashamed to say that I carry you with me the same way I used to carry around a rabbit’s foot
the closer I held it,
the luckier I thought I’d become
the rabbit remained dead
I remained naive
and you remain the magical mall kiosk notion clipped onto my backpack
the good luck charm I killed to feel better about myself
we don’t walk home together anymore
when you walk,
you walk alone in your new fancy dress shoes
on the sidewalk so no pebbles can sneak in
but you mostly just drive anyhow
and I mostly just sit at the curb
kicking up the dirt.