you are clawing 

at the top of your skull

where your hair parts down either side. 

you like to think, 

(and sometimes you say to me), that

“it parts that way because that’s where I open it,” 

like a dresser with two doors

and I can tell

that your thoughts sit inside your head 

at the very top:

filled with helium,

waiting to hit open air. 

float up and maybe land everywhere

on the contrary,

I am always open-

but always empty

waiting until someone

pours their thoughts into me

hitting the base of my skull first,

and then the top

(and then I am full) 

(and they are usually yours).

I’ve thought about this a lot,

and how this makes us the same.

I wonder if it’s worse to claw or to wait