Terrible remains, I make them part Human refuges in a misused heart I hang my canvas high over your head a painting of a life not yet led I place my hand on your anthology I dissect your words in an attempted autopsy Inside I find lovers that speak like mourners my thoughts bleed and accumulate in your corners I press myself against your notebook escape others estranged look And fill your pages with my red until you're happy and well fed our bodies are an assembly our only vessels, bruised and trembly my armadas of paper boats may slip through the cracks to fill us both up with all that lacks