I promise you, this chest cracks from the force of my gasp scrabbling every ounce of frigid mist I can warming it with time, face turned black from pressure.
wait for the release, darling.
it may not thaw the distance between poles but I can whistle something sweet just like you taught me when the summer was a running river and our hearts were not these frostbitten bird wings strung out across the dunes
I burnt my harmonica in the coals you left me it could not play the blues
we are grey with nothing between the static a monochromatic flicker on long-dead television sets shattered-glass hope breath sputtered out in the slip-shape of smoke
my wrists are broken from digging you out of yourself so
letβs take a minute to mourn.
letβs see if I can hold the soft silence on my sharpened shoulders and keep it from breaking
bring out your paints. show me how the only thing I couldn't see was your brushstroke your choke-face your pathways your patched-up heart strings those holy rolling white things,
I would give my backbone for another look at your insides.