Seven


you stand at the center of it all
and watch it all crumble,
watch it unravel,
find the boy who pulled the thread
try to fix him,

push poems between his lips, staining
his teeth ink blue,
build your home between his upper
left ribs, his heart is your front door,
cracked, half-opened, barely standing,

glue him together with nothing but
Band-Aid brand kisses that won't
stick for long, leave a trail of breadcrumbs
in his bed so you won't ever get lost
on your way home

your fingers tingle like the water's run
cold while you've been trying
to wash away everyone else's sins,

stop trying to find the one who
started the fire and bandaging their
burnt hands while your skin
still smolders

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