If it wasn't love,
the hole she felt
in her chest
told her it was
***** close

He was her skeleton key
changing shape and
fitting snugly to her,
dying to unlock
her so that he could
reside in the space
between her ribs

His name melted on my tongue
and was breathed out like a sigh

There's a place in her mind
where he can not reach,
no matter how deep
his longing goes.
Her form lies with his
but her closed eyes are
drinking in worlds
he never could,
no matter how much
he thirsts.
She's breathing in
ethereal elements
his lungs will never know,
because she is his dreamer.

If my bones poked more readily
through my skin,
would more men
long to cut themselves
on my edges?

i
write
to
discover
how
i
really
feel
about
life