And I Know I Will Be a Sobbing Woman Instead of a Smiling One

Dreams plummet to their death,
a girl walking into the ocean,
a boy jumping from a cliff
into the wild, they plummet.

And I am jumping from
my three bedroom estate

(I used to call it heaven)

into a two bedroom antique
home. The mattress
has been laid, and I will
laugh wine and all,

stare into the abyss
of the antique walls,
paint no longer speckled
and cracked like my sanity.

I have learned to fish
my sanity from the paint,
cover it like your matted
blanket, holes as wide
as our egos, my skin

soaking in satin paint,

cracks filling like putty,
pride leaking
like Presbyterian tongues.