We were once the same--flesh and heart,
Until I found myself ripping at the bark that protected you, searching,
as if trying to rid myself of my denying fingerprints,
the one thing that set us apart,
and disappear into what I admired.
I would bathe in your words.
My letters were spat at you like angular bullets that never broke your armor,
and sometimes I would miss you enough to crawl into my depths
the ominous gaping part of me,
and secure myself in horn marrow.
I would shriek your name into my coronary halls,
listening intently for echoes to hear you return
and return.
I think of you
as I trail my fingers across the parchment where your name is written,
faded on a forgotten surface that was once a tree,
that once had bark,
is gentle and
lets me keep my fingerprints
and is a reminder that you once were.