#sternum - Hello Poetry

My sternum hums at 2 AM A frequency only my ribs can hear I press my palm against bone Feel the vibration like a trapped bird My lungs have learned to fold Origami organs making space For all the air I forgot to breathe For all the words I swallowed whole The skin between My thumb and index finger Thinned from wringing hands Now transparent enough to see The blue rivers rushing beneath My jaw clicks when I lie A tiny betrayal in the hinge Mouth opening before permission Closing around unsaid prayers My throat holds a third option That lives in the space between Swallowing and screaming The bruises on my thighs Developed their own language Purple hieroglyphs explaining What my lips refuse to translate My heartbeat learned Morse code Tapping messages against my ribs SOS but nobody's listening Or maybe nobody knows How to read it My stomach contains knots That aren't metaphor Actual twisting Like rope trying to hang itself My eyes have started unfocusing As if looking at something Just beyond the edge of vision Something only I can see My body is a house Haunted by its owner And I keep walking through rooms Wondering who keeps Breaking the glass

0

Nov 27, 2025

Nov 27, 2025 at 2:57 AM UTC

Sorelle

Sternum Hum

My sternum hums at 2 AM A frequency only my ribs can hear I press my palm against bone Feel the vibration like a trapped bird My lungs have learned to fold Origami organs making space For all the air I forgot to breathe For all the words I swallowed whole The skin between My thumb and index finger Thinned from wringing hands Now transparent enough to see The blue rivers rushing beneath My jaw clicks when I lie A tiny betrayal in the hinge Mouth opening before permission Closing around unsaid prayers My throat holds a third option That lives in the space between Swallowing and screaming The bruises on my thighs Developed their own language Purple hieroglyphs explaining What my lips refuse to translate My heartbeat learned Morse code Tapping messages against my ribs SOS but nobody's listening Or maybe nobody knows How to read it My stomach contains knots That aren't metaphor Actual twisting Like rope trying to hang itself My eyes have started unfocusing As if looking at something Just beyond the edge of vision Something only I can see My body is a house Haunted by its owner And I keep walking through rooms Wondering who keeps Breaking the glass

42

257 days. For the first time, I don't want to shower him off my skin. No need to scrub; Your lips leaving delicate traces, Your hands entangled in my hair, No need to rinse Feeling you, Sending shocks down my spine Fingers brushing against skin Electric impulses No need to wash the memories of; Bodies intwined Kissing shoulders and sternums (whatever has been left exposed)

0

Jul 2, 2018

Jul 2, 2018 at 3:25 AM UTC

tsunami

July 01

257 days. For the first time, I don't want to shower him off my skin. No need to scrub; Your lips leaving delicate traces, Your hands entangled in my hair, No need to rinse Feeling you, Sending shocks down my spine Fingers brushing against skin Electric impulses No need to wash the memories of; Bodies intwined Kissing shoulders and sternums (whatever has been left exposed)

15

the silence becomes the loudest in the middle of the night when safety is no longer an option. it becomes the enemy when you're trying to sleep, push everything away to get some peace. it's the thing that turns you from blue to red in the blink of an eye. turning you into a whole new mechanism. an animated, drooling, beast of rage. you can try to claw your way out, but there's always something in the way of getting rid of the revolting, wet, anger that boils in the cavity of your sternum.

0

Aug 25, 2017

Aug 25, 2017 at 2:21 AM UTC

elisefromtheinternet

often red.

the silence becomes the loudest in the middle of the night when safety is no longer an option. it becomes the enemy when you're trying to sleep, push everything away to get some peace. it's the thing that turns you from blue to red in the blink of an eye. turning you into a whole new mechanism. an animated, drooling, beast of rage. you can try to claw your way out, but there's always something in the way of getting rid of the revolting, wet, anger that boils in the cavity of your sternum.

6