because then I'm real

He tells me I'm the most beautiful
when I cry, because then I'm real.
He wipes away my tears and holds me
and brushes my hair out of my eyes.
But I know he wants me to cry,
because then I'm real,
because then I'm real for him.

I'm afraid of crying too much in case
it washes the dust out of my lungs
and erodes the sticks of chalk
that carefully form my fragile bones.
But I know he wants me to cry,
because then I'm real,
because then I'm real for him.