I am the product of two naked bodies
That no longer intertwine but are now
Only seen as broken vacant homes and empty parking lots.
I grew up in shells as big as mountains and bathed in salt water tears of grief
Hoping that my loose skin would hold tight and dehydrate
And then maybe for once I could put my thoughts aside and sleep at night.
I've been haunted my whole life except when I close my eyes and dream of you and all soft and vibrant things that relate to you.
My body is a broken vessel that I've been piecing together by other broken shipwrecks and tattered rags that I'm still learning how to use.
I'll keep on drowning because you sailed away with my heart and I was never good at swimming from the start.
The machines in my mind are getting tired of the dreams where you and I are on rocks and we intertwine with veins like naked bodies that are only seen as broken vacant homes.