me, dormant still breath under sheets
this is not what they taught you about volcanoes, you of late nights and ###### tear away words
of jitters and shivers and shaking rattling tombstone dreams and me, fingers strong and clenched into thick skin and veins and those places they’re buried
me, tight muscles needing a lesson on letting go, overreactions of all proportions
me, calculating the velocity of a fall from my bedroom window
me, calculating the velocity of a fall that would **** me
me; me, dead on the ground outside your ####### window how about that would you cry or would you kiss my cold lips or would you rip my ribs from my chest because that’s what I would do
and this is the part where you apologize and say you still love me, and this is the part where i destroy your tissue paper skin and wipe my hands on my worn jeans, and this is the part where you grab the words from the back of my throat that had no intentions of showing their ***** faces and tack them on telephone poles
you, a face in the crowd
me, six feet under ground