i don't care about the story you have carved into me
or about the shape of your fingers that leave tiny oval bruises around my hips
i can't see your heart, but i see your ribs through your shirt
and i see the bits of skin that stretch over the bumps of your spine
and it makes me think of how the sea looks ripples over the surface before it pounds to the shore
looking at you reminds me that we are made of water and dust
i don't care to bring you back to life
but the white of your flesh reminds me of piano keys
so maybe i will write a melody onto you
that will turn your eyes into skeleton keys
and they will open someone else's heart