You are small
and when you sleep
you sleep all curled up
breath captured
by a purple blanket
over your head

Sometimes I want to stroke
that head already losing
too much hair
but you flinch
ill used to human contact

Later I realize I want to hold you
I want to hold you
not like a lover
but like a mother
I want to hold you
and rock you
and let you cry
and let you be pain
I want to let you be ugly
I want to let you be mean

But mostly
I want to let you hurt
All of us hurt but your hurt
is wild and unexposed
You dress yourself up
in a purple monster suit
and grumble and growl
at people

Sometimes you do more than growl
Taking swipes with plastic claws

Last night though
you completely unzipped
from your suit
and lay it out
for me to see

You spoke of the hurt
and what it feels like
for you to be human
and my heart, exposed
unleashed a waterfall

And I realized that I was sitting
too far away from you

And I realized that we
were of the same water

Afterwards, you rode
into the night
without a light
and I slept

But when I woke up
hours later
I saw that you were sleeping
on your back
breath free from blankets
face open toward the sky.