Empty eyes
took it in, a sin
when she touched his face.
Smiles aren’t meant to bleed.
But you grinned and
undid carefully wound heartstrings.
Hands break when you hold them too tight.
They asked me to live;
I asked them to look in a different direction,
protection means a tired heart.
Bodies aren’t meant to touch.
They don’t curve to each other.
They bend to death alone.
Break them farther enough over your steel ribcage
and they’ll make stardust pour out of their eyes.
Breathing is a cry for help.
You brushed my forehead with your fingertips
like winds and smiles and moments.