I. If the frame is not secure, the building may collapse.

We lived in an old Victorian
That survived the 06 and 89,
But my father said I was the fault line.

The playground near our house had a row of
Old oak trees
And if you sat at the very top of the tallest one,
You could see all the children running.

I ran and I ran.
My roots are somewhere else now,
I wonder if you notice,
I wonder if it matters whether you noticed.

II. Prepare a survival kit.

They tell you not to need people
And really, honey, I tried.

Tried not to make you my epicenter,
Used to laugh at couples who said “you complete me”.
Shaking all the cynic out of the girl.

One night the ground quaked so deep
My sister fell out of her bed;
I asked my mother why we lived somewhere
That had the potential to rock the life out of us
At any given moment.

You leaned your head against my shoulder,
Your breathing slowed to sleep.
I now understand where I live.

III. DROP. COVER. HOLD.

I am tired of feeling like
An apology.
Meaning this time I know
It’s fine if I crumble,
Meaning the magnitude of my life
Is going to give people earaches
From the sonic boom
And the shock waves.

Damn the risk analysis.
I am not holding onto the table.
So when I come running for your arms,
For your heart,
The windows may shatter.

We can watch out,
Make sure the other doesn’t step on broken glass.