hairline fractures
sketched on arms
with microscopic graphite pencils
the kind artists use to draw
the wide eyes of a 2-dimensional fear

engrained constellations
containing those hidden greek myths
of the triumphs and tragedies
of those ancient heroes we get tattooed on the soles of our feet

wire-brush scratches
that create the canals
my icy hot blood runs through
the pathways that swell when you breathe on my neck

if you laid each person
under the scrutiny of a microscope
you would see their cracks
their beautiful impurities where
sadness seeps slowly in
where wordless emotions ooze
and where little sunbeams
reach their spindly fingers towards the freedom of a new day.