a poem a day for a year #171

I hold you like sweaty coins in a beggar's hand. Keys of a drunk. All the tea in China. Tickets. Love Letters. Secrets. Will you take me into the bedroom tonight and teach me how to let go? Damn, I am such a slow learner. I just can't keep it together. There is a nail sticking out of the wall behind our headboard. It is not sharp, but dull and painted over years ago. But I feel it when I put my hands above my head. Like memory, my finger finds it. That spot. Same Spot. And there are few spaces where I am free. I am holding so tightly to the world, so I won't be flung off the edge. Flying like stars from people. From words. But I am free with you. With the old nail and it's like a button I push over and over again. Like a redo. Like a refresh. Like a hard stop.