I swear the palms of my hands look far too thin for the
weight of my world.
My fingers too short to count the number of
times I've been unsure how much longer
my legs can go.

But where my body fails my heart will not,
and though sometimes strength dictates that
the words I can't write leave paper cuts beneath my nails,
I swallow every word for safekeeping.

I'd give them back if I had any pounds to lose,
but I don't worry anymore for the safety of
the pages I choke down,
I don't need a bookmark to remember,
thats what bruises are for.