my spine breaks because
i bend over backwards
so that you cannot get hurt,
but black still seeps through
the cracks between the fingers i
lay across your face, and
you turn cold with every exposed
patch of skin i cannot cover.
you are the bird to my nest,
falling free from its husks and braids
to the beautiful stones below.
we breathe but not too deeply
for fear our hearts may burst.
the sun undresses and the moon
stands bare, black surrounding
its silent wings.
i am the band-aid stretched
across a deluging wound,
the sponge in the flash flood.
i stretch my limbs until they
snap
in hopes that maybe i can
hold you
together for another breath.














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