when we met
i told you
that i liked to spill my insides
all over the paper
and you told me
that you liked to fix things.
take them apart
just to rebuild
and i fell asleep thinking about
if your brows scrunch together
when you are fixing your mother's hard drive
or if your tongue refuses to rest
comfortably in your mouth
when you are focusing.
i never thought that
you would break me apart
and lay out my insides
all over your bedroom floor
just so you could try to fix me up
with tape and glue and whispered sentiments
but by the time i had figured it out
you had already taken my voicebox
placed it under your mattress like
a trophy that you could pull out
and show off to your friends.