I'm good at this, everyone keeps confirming. The one you call when the floor gives, the one still standing. But I've been standing on one leg for a while now and nobody checked. I keep my hands full, I keep my voice low. I keep the lights on so you have somewhere to go. But keeping isn't the same as fine, and I've been spending what I don't have for a long time. You pour everything out on the table, I sort it, I hold it, I hand it back whole. I don't know how to say I'm also leaking. It doesn't fit the version of me you know. I want someone to ask the second question. Not how are you, but no, really. I want to say something half-formed and heavy and have it land without being fixed immediately. I keep my hands full, I keep my voice low. I keep the door open, I keep the undertow. But keeping isn't the same as whole, and I've been performing okay on an empty hold. I'm not a floor. I'm not a ceiling. I've got the same cold underneath. And I love being trusted, I do, but I need a hand that reaches back when I reach. Just once. Not a lot. Just. Someone notice the weight before I name it. Someone sit with me in the part that doesn't resolve. I keep my hands full. I keep my voice low. But keeping isn't the same as held. And I've got nowhere left to go. I keep my hands full, I keep my voice low. I keep the lights on so you have somewhere to go. But keeping isn't the same as fine, and I've been spending what I don't have for a long time. I keep my hands full, I keep my voice low. I keep the door open, I keep the undertow. But keeping isn't the same as whole, and I've been performing okay on an empty hold. I keep my hands full. I keep my voice low. But I'm not the lights. I'm not the open door. I'm not the ceiling and I'm not the floor. I keep the weight down. I keep the fracture small. But keeping isn't the same as held, and I've got nowhere left. Nowhere. At all.
