Do not mind my thew, cuz it is but flesh haphazardly carved over the bones of a brittle man.
Who is too ashamed to admit his broken.
Who is too afraid to be spoken of,
or about.
There goes that man who once had a home. Not a home in the sense of a house,
but a place where we could build our lives together.
Where the walls were so thin I could feel you breathe in the other room.
Because I was the rock and you were the home.
But when you set fire to it, my skin was left charred and burt and the ground that was once able to be built on is nothing more than a remnant for something that was once beautiful.
So take my flesh and build it in a way that you desire.
Just don't build a home where her voice still echo inside it.
Even though I know it always will.