Nimble fingers and humble toes
Each with a different set of fingerprints
He examined each one and kissed them
And then he lay them down

Tight cheek bones and a concave torso
He let his hand run down her jagged ribs
He memorized the veins she tried to open. And his tears took her blood’s place

He felt the lines etched in her skin
And he noticed their strategic placement
His lip quivered when hers lay still
His eyes watered when hers turned pale

He couldn’t collect himself
So he collected thin strands of her hair
He compiled enough to touch her forever
Then he stood, taking her in one last time

Let it be known that below my hard exterior I am cherry taffy being pulled with every step

Let it be known that my skin is mailable and my tissue is raw despite my bandages

Let it be known that I’m oozing melted sugar that stained my wrist red and my teeth grey

Let it be known that I am sore from the twisting motion that stretches my words so they don’t come across as they are

Let it be known that I have scars that are not invisible but are always concealed

Let it be known that I have wounds that are gaping and open but never revealed

Let it be known that I am brittle and cracking and cold and curdled

Let it be known that I am wondering what the Hell I should do now that I failed at giving up

My life shattered.
It just fell down into little pieces in front of me.
And there wasn’t a thing that I could do, it seemed, except look at all the colorful shards that lay scattered across the floor.
I picked one up, and held it in my hand, up to my heart, and I forced it in my mind.
And as I worked I kept it there, that one little piece, that made me feel safe and happy and wonderfully scared.
Time passed, and I had created something different.
It wasn’t the same as before, but it was beautiful; a mosaic of my past and my hopes for my future.
But one piece was missing- the one I had held onto for so long.
And I thought all that time that I had studied it so intently and memorized it’s shape so meticulously that when I was ready to fit the piece into the center of my creation, it would fit perfectly.
But instead, it resisted. Desperate to complete it, I pushed and pushed with everything and nothing left inside me. The work of art began to crack from the middle outwards. And i found myself in agony deciding if I would I risk it all for the remarkable piece that didn’t even fit, or if i would I give up on something I had idealized for too long with too much of myself? But before I could move, something interesting happened. One of the shards took its place, and the creation seemed to embrace it. And I could see my own reflection in the center of everything for the first time.

I’ve counted the tick marks on my wrists
Like I’ve counted the books of the Bible
I’ve been drunk off wine and water
Like I’ve been baptized in it

I’ve cried monsoons of yearning and ache
Like I’ve teared up from forgiveness
I’ve justified my actions with ignorance
Like I’ve been given too many chances

I’ve gravitated towards my transgressions
Like I’ve asked for your deliverance
I’ve actively acted against your will
Like I’ve told you I would trust you

And I can’t move mountains when you can
But I can choose to accept it
And I can’t push boulders from my tomb
But I can choose to believe it

Here I am
Finally fed
Denying my premature death
And in your name I pray...
That you’d let it be

She left her keys on the coffee table. But he wouldn't give them back. In fact, he kept moving them around the house, places where he knew she would eventually see. But as soon as she caught sight, he would move them again. And she couldn't ask him where he had put them because after this long of a time had gone, it was too humiliating to admit she was still looking. And even though she knew he knew she was, she kept dangling the replacements in his face to show him that she'd taken care of it. But she still wants the original keys back; desperately.