It's not so important to hold someone together
As it is to put them back again.

There is something beautiful in the way his fingers dance across my skin
and the shadows they leave.

I’ve torn myself to shreds
And there is nothing left under this skin
Worth loving
Anymore

Those days when the sky is an impossible shade
that is stuck somewhere between "Oh god, anywhere
but here" and "It's too late, just let me be",
when the air itself is grey and every
breath you take only darkens it
until you walk around curtained in black,
and the mist clings to you like a
second skin and freezes your bones
and you must move slowly as not to
break them, but you can't let go of the fear
of being left behind so you ignore
the SNAP!-SNAP! of your extremities
buckling under a speed they
cannot handle.

Those are the days
when I walk softly and speak quietly
terrified one whisper will
shatter the world I have so precariously
built around myself.

I don't want to wake the dead.

The grayness of everyday has become a comfort
Such that when the sun rises
It hurts to look