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