The Bones That No Longer Belong to Me
We would lay in bed and you would trace my skin practicing for your anatomy test, and I knew that my bones weren't the ones keeping me together, it was your smile in the cold winter with the promise that one day I'll feel warm again. I guess the cold became too much because you left without a word. You were a trapdoor I couldn't see the pit until I was falling in love with your eyes and I expected feathers but landed on gravel - the tiny rocks are still in my knees - painful reminders that you were not my forever, yet your ghost is still here bits that you forgot to pack when you slammed the door behind you. I took the door down in case you ever came back I wanted you to know that it wasn't locked but all I got was a house full of snow, my body is still numb, you left in winter and I assumed you would crawl back on a drunk night in January- the cold too much for you to bare alone but I haven't seen you in months it's July now the snow is melted and I know you didn't get caught in a snow drift the flowers you gave me are dead but I still keep them in a vase on the window sill, I picked up the pieces you left behind and packed them away in my rib cage, in case you ever wanted them back, I promise to keep you safe.