Your silence sticks into me like knives,

my body a sheath for something too empty to name

and I’m too full of it to move,

too tired to make my lungs into anything but bellows

that others must fan

Oh drag me up

against the stars

press your lips to these weary bones and breathe into me life

Mine keeps sticking to my throat,

hollowing me out and leaving me shuddering

in my skin

There will be a day when whole won’t mean three quarters you,

but for now you’re gone and I’m barren

I’d forgotten what it was like to not fit, and now I remember

There’s nothing more to say