i have been trying to be who i was before him, but she doesn't exist anymore. i keep finding myself wishing i could hold her hand or be a house for her. i imagine that if she had a home beyond him then she might be whole, that she might then be me. i don't have to worry about hands anymore. no one listens to me breathe. i imagine him now, hiding green eyes inside eyelids. i daydream that he kisses me hard, tells me what color my veins are. & in the morning, between city streets & whatever heaven brings, i say, quite calmly, "i thought the girl you undressed & undid was the one i was." & he says, looking straight ahead, "the extent of your heart is the length of my arms."
19; bedbones
