i have scars of your fingerprints
blemishes shaped like your lips
cracks in my spine
from the sound of your voice
and pinholes in my heart
from the way you look at me

brittle breaking bones,
these hands know not to hold
my fingers snap and ache,
oh how they feel so cold

veins so bright and blue,
pulse this sickly blood
skin so thin and flawed,
a cut could cause a flood

tendons pull and tense,
a touch sends unknown thrills
joints so hard and stiff,
through cracks, my love, it spills

i want to pull open your ribcage,
nestle myself between your lungs.
i want to feel you breathe,
the weight of your life pressed against me.
i want to cure your hiccups,
curl up against your fluttering heart.
i want to warm the winter air,
to keep you from cold.
i want to be the part of you
you cant live without.

oh, if looks could ****, the hair on the back of your head
would be grey and falling.

sneakers full of holes, breaking at every unexplainable instance.
your hands would be wrinkled and cracking, stricken with arthritis.

that face of yours would lay untouched,
handsome and deceptive

seven weeks
six days

it’s not my fault that i’ve
been keeping track of this
minute existence of yours

how i am supposed to feel,
to know such a loss;
                         i do not know

ive been told,
i will regret this,
to consider my actions

perhaps after
     i will feel loss

perhaps after
     it will make a difference

i cannot feel you,
only what you make me feel
     inside
        outside

maybe i will feel sorry
for giving you up like this
but somehow i feel like
                      i wont feel
         anything besides
  sweet emptiness

your guilt is an ocean
violently crashing
against these brittle rock ledges

the falling pieces
causing you to grow oh so heavy
                                oh so weary
with your actions

this weight i try to bare
    oh so fruitlessly, though
            it is not my weight to care

silently leaving with
the faint bells

but still your tides
wash up on my shore
           weighing more than once before

safety is a forehead
pressed between sleeping
shoulderblades,
butterfly kisses on spines
and entangled fingers