They say, you can fold a sheet of paper, no matter how big or small, only up to seven times
Didn't you know that?
Did you think you could stick your fingers in the back of your throat and throw up the bad taste in your pert mouth?
Did you think you escaped the infernos with just the wisps of black on your silken cheek, oblivious to soot-choked in your lungs?
Did you think you got away unscathed, seeing your pretty face in the mirror and not the scars of the gashes that used to be wings on your back?
Did the think the fallen stars in your eyes and the salt of your tears would anneal into tinted glasses and shield you from the glare?
Did you think you could start afresh? Start from scratch? Bury the hatchet? Turn the page?
My darling, my incurable fool, you hapless romantic, look at yourself? You have fingerprint-soiled creases all over...
Listen, hold on, stretch out and let your lungs breathe, don't you dare wait about,
Till you are all folded out...
