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Dec 2014
Fingernails claw at porcelain skin.
Furiously they scratch and scour.
Layer after layer I become unstuck.
Unravelled. Undone.
Picked at the seams.

I dig and I dig.
Hoping to find the piece of me you didn't like.
Or the piece of you in me that keeps me awake at night.

Nail on bone, I find ribcage.
I find the remnants of my incarcerated heart.
Too weak to set it free,
I leave it there, barely beating.
Some things should never be unearthed.
Nicholas Myers
Written by
Nicholas Myers  Peterborough
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