Cut me open, dissect my thoughts and dismember my hopes. The windows are opening to reveal myself to you, so open me. Breathe me, inhale my memories, ******* future. I am nothing but what you make of me, I am only a half ready to be a whole. Tell me you know me, now that I am here, lying open and ****** at your feet.

She held his palms,
rough against the cool air
passing through small gaps of skin.
She breathed the frost
through her rasping throat,
curling it with her tongue
as it left her lips.
He watched her with intent,
his eyes unable to leave her.
They moved with each other
under the dim street lamps,
their mitten covered hands
bound tightly to one another.
Finally,
she managed to mumble those words,
so soft and sweet
as they wafted into the night sky,
filling the stars with a drunken glow
in their deepened atmosphere.
Finally,
he was able to receive them,
take them in
and feel his bones rattle,
his heart race,
and his mind pulse.
They were in love,
wandering on a bitter December,
unable to comprehend the enormity
of what they had tumbled to.

I am.
I am a seeker,
constantly grasping for knowledge
and wading through cluttered
pools of  thoughts.

I am a lover,
with every soft smoothing of fingertips
sending a rattle through my vertebrae,
and bring my heart
to a droning rumble.

I am the isolation,
the silence heard between the cracks
in the walls,
the listener of sounds
unable to be heard by human ear.

I am the wanderer,
floating among the pathways,
my sight only a reflection
of the beauty around me.

I am the girl,
the aspiring writer,
the owner of a fractured past,
the individual.

Beautiful yet horrifying,
running but never stopping,
I am.