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Monsters

I pulled out the monsters from beneath my shoulders
When you asked me
to tell you what was on my mind, I realized they were no longer sleeping under my bed.
I asked you,
what it felt like
to have your mouth touch mine and know that my throat is filled with smoke,  to have all the voices of the people I’ve swallowed, come spilling out onto your tongue.
I asked you,
what it felt like
To touch my hands and feel the burns under my sleeves against your skin
you told me,
it feels like fire.
I asked you,
what it tastes like
To have my breath enter your lungs, so filled with orange that it makes it hard to see anything else around me
you told me,
you didn’t need to.
I pulled out the monsters from beneath my shoulders
It was the first time,
I heard your voice for the last time
That I realized, the skin on the backs of my hands had their own names for people they have touched,
and that my collarbones,
have the colors of people’s souls streaming out their sharpened edges, or that my bones,
hold every word I’ve ever heard built like a home inside of them,
a home where I can live when I have no where else to go.
It was the first time, I heard your voice for the last time.
I realized that my fingertips have learned every crevice of your spine like their own lines on their skin;
But I,
Can’t even remember,
what you smelled like.

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