your mother remembers the
day you fell from the sky
"my shooting star," she said
but she always knew you would burn yourself out
your skeleton is the kind
that leave archaeologists begging for
more
remember to dust off your ribcage
every now and then
polish it with kindness
and let them rest
your heart is tired
of being bruised
it is worn
it is messy
hang your heaviness on the coat rack
leave your map in the passenger seat
and bury your sorrow in the garden
home is not another person
it is within you
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
your mother remembers the
day you fell from the sky
"my shooting star," she said
but she always knew you would burn yourself out
your skeleton is the kind
that leave archaeologists begging for
more
remember to dust off your ribcage
every now and then
polish it with kindness
and let them rest
your heart is tired
of being bruised
it is worn
it is messy
hang your heaviness on the coat rack
leave your map in the passenger seat
and bury your sorrow in the garden
home is not another person
it is within you
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