Comfortable Jaws

I can't be the mirror
held up to your jealous wounds.
That sewed themselves into your smile
soon as you shared it with the moon.
I can't be the one who shows
the beauty bled from children's cheeks.
I can't be the one who tells them
that they'll enjoy the coming weeks
for years.
Too weak to part with the comfortable jaws
of the bed
and the intravenous lullabies.

I won't be the one who tells them
I won't be the siren who mislead.

The tree has gotten rotten at its roots
if it can't even save its fragile bloom
from sailing to a graceful end.
Where were all the nets they spoke of
when gravity pulled you down?
Now behind the mummy's mask
its all a blur, with muffled sounds.

Darling, your years are too small for this.
Your tiny picture frame is wearing
down around your roseate photograph.

But I can't be the mirror modeling
the honest and horrible truth to you

I just can't.