i relate in body parts,
because my words fall short of hearts.

i relate, in knowing we both have twelve pairs of ribs,
the same way you and i have the curve to our hips.

i relate, in knowing your ulna runs down my radius,
the same way my thumb runs down your humerus.

i relate, in knowing how our teeth align,
the same way you compliment my design.

so i nest my mandibula,
in the crevice of your scapula,
set my rhythm to the countdown of your vertebra.

i relate, in knowing a pair of lips doesn't make two,
not unless they meet as me and you.

There once was a sneezer named Rose
Who'd sneeze to the tips of her toes.
    She once sneezed so heinous
    She puked out her ****
And blew out her brains through her nose.

Alot o ****
spe akstot
hehe art
**** hi sh
ere poe
m hwisp
ers sweetno
things to
thee lbo
w.

the hand has twenty-seven bones.
four to promise you i'll be there always,
four to wear the ring you gave me,
four to touch your lips when you're sleeping,
four to feel how long your lashes are,
three to show you that i'll be okay,
eight to have your face on my palm,
and all twenty-seven to hold your hand.

We've built a house like we recognize each other's walls, we felt safe on every corner where we familiarize ourselves too well; it's the anatomy of us. Our limbs where we cling to were as fragile as the heart I sculpt its own cracks, This body is malleable, it just grew mimicking what the others have— the fragments of what I love, my flesh, my soul and my curve haven't left untouched.

I shouldn't have grown into you, like this body doesn't belong to myself anymore.

I bathe in endless sips of your love
'till the watery depths of my stomach
gurgle their dissapproval,
leaving me sick.

He still looks at me
Like I'm his Meredith. Make
of it what you want.