Paper Man

At first, paper man,
I admired your cutting edge,

Your inability to be anything more than
See-through. I noticed you
Folding in certain situations.
I thought it was your nature.
I watched you crumple,
Poor screwed-up you,
And I cried and cried.
You had been punched, and
You had been burned, and
I could see so many holes.
The thought of flames hurting
You, hurt me even more.
But then I saw you taking the match
To yourself, and I did not
Understand it. Tried to stop it, in fact.
But you would find those matches
Wherever they were hidden.
I told you it was over, and you
Posted yourself to me in an envelope.
Love me, you’d written on the place
Where your heart should have been.
Hate me, was written over your pencilled cock.
I crumpled you into a ball
And threw you from the window, but still
You returned – masquerading as a
Bill, a letter, a Christmas card,
An origami swan. And every time
I let you in – the fire, the smoke,
Filled my flat and my lungs. Licked at
My heart. Paper man, I am tired of this.
The water I throw just turns you to mulch,
My pleas to stop are ignored.
I finally see that you don’t have ears.
You don’t have a heart, either.
You are so thin, now,
And you are just paper,
But still you left me in cuts all over
While I in turn have changed to other
Things. Water. Wood.
Finally, to stone.