Anatomy of a Heartbreak

I've grown wary of wooing,
woozy from wearing my sleeve so close
to my heart,

the drawing out
the drawing in
I am drawn like a shade
tightly, tightly
I don't believe, is the thing.

but your fingers tangle in my cord
they draw me out
they draw me in--
a lulling, a hulling
a slipping off
a slipping in
a ray of light slips slickly through the slats
and I am holding my breath
and I am holding my heart
and I am holding you
tightly, tightly
and then--

I breathe.

I breathe.

It always comes too soon
is the thing.

a drifting, a sifting
a pulling out
a pulling away
a knowing too
of this simple truth:

I am beautiful only
when just out of reach.