still, my hands have not stopped shaking
since they felt a body fall limp beneath them,
felt all the systems and mechanisms come to
a sudden halt, a full house become vacant.
don’t ask me why i think of angels when i hear
sirens rippling through the night, or why all my
nightmares look like ambulance doors closing.
you can only have what you love torn from your
grip so many times before loss turns into a habit.
letting go is a lesson my hands have learned
too well, they are careless with things like love
and trust. dirt under my nails. i killed the part of
me that wanted to **** itself and buried it in an
unmarked grave, there are parts of me i never
want to find again. give me the corpses of your
lesser selves and i will make graves for them
too, i will lay them to rest if you get weary
of carrying their heavy bones.