I want to etch my soul into your skeleton,
all 206 of your bones
so I can possibly be something you always keep inside of you.
Let me be your frame.

I'd ask to be your skin too,
but i'd be ridden of much too soon.
I'd be scrubbed off when you bathe,
shaken off in your sleep while you dream.
I'd be the dust piled on your keyboard,
brushed off when it gets to be a sore to your eyes.


Skin cells renew, and I want you to feel fresh every morning
so I take that last stanza back.
Please allow me to be the skin that covers you, and the blood in your veins.

I am your second body.
If yours ever abandons you, let my heart pump your blood
and let my skin act as an umbrella to your  beautiful insides.