Furniture

I see you as I want to see you,
as I think you see yourself.
A shiny glass orb,
hopping, and crawling with fleshy spines and
cracks that dance on your face
like hummingbirds.
I can tell you are scared.
And maybe weak.
Every moment is a question,
deep breaths with no answers,
where none of the furniture is hammered into
the floor.