It was the way you carried yourself,
as if universes scratched at your shoulders
and the care you kept neatly inside
was killing you slowly.
I remember the words you spoke
as if they were poking, pressing
at your already bruised ribs;
as if they climbed up your throat
holding ice hooks and torches.
I buried them deep as they'd go
in the sweat-drenched sheets,
hoping you wouldn’t remember
or want to search for them.
But one night I awoke
to an unfamiliar breeze,
those sheets untangled and draping
halfway out the open window.
I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 1:19 AM UTC
It was the way you carried yourself,
as if universes scratched at your shoulders
and the care you kept neatly inside
was killing you slowly.
I remember the words you spoke
as if they were poking, pressing
at your already bruised ribs;
as if they climbed up your throat
holding ice hooks and torches.
I buried them deep as they'd go
in the sweat-drenched sheets,
hoping you wouldn’t remember
or want to search for them.
But one night I awoke
to an unfamiliar breeze,
those sheets untangled and draping
halfway out the open window.
I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe.
