and I know
that you can cry
like a silver tree-
so graceful-
and you can dip
like its branches
and wrap around me like
the vines on its trunk

and I know
that you can graze
the ragged edges of my skin
like my fingernail polish
and stray from my palms
and fade in the sun

and I know
that you can shimmer through my hair
like the moon on water
and cocoon me in
the enchantment
of silver enamored with navy

and I know
that I can cry
under a silver tree-
not graceful, but
raw
and you can sway in
the wind, giving
a beautiful illusion of motion
but I know
that you can never
be truly
moved.