You’re Peg Tooth,
I’m Sticky Fingers.

Lets run until we hit the sun
hoping for matching freckles.

.  
                                                    l           ­       
                                                      
i looked at the sky     l
and                               a
wondered how to f

when everyone else
knew to fly

Let me

                     (Breathe myself into wind.

                            Sink until I’m water.

                                    Lay, for to dust I will return.

                                                  Then I can)

stretch myself into your bones.

My ghost is pressed
Between pages of black ink;
Haunting bookshelves neatly labeled.
Fingers running down bound spines
vertebrae by paper vertebrae.
Memories that are trapped in fiction,
Lost by a to z organization,
Misfiled.

I can be,
Just by myself.


And yet;

If I could breathe a dream,
It would be the one on your passenger side window.
I traced the veins of my heart
And found you tangled.