For you I let my heart flinch like a match being blown out by my own pair of lungs. For you I let her twitch, let her squirm; I let her suffer.
I blame it on you but I know I’m the one at fault.
Home seems a little smaller now. It seems to have shrunk– or maybe it’s because the family inside of it has.
I left the black and blue’s on my knuckles to stair at the wall. We have matching bruises so I figured that’s something to fill this silence.
This missing puzzle piece has muffled inside my breathing like a train losing sight of its tracks.
We wept purple tears across your mothers bed frame until we could no longer see the color of the sky.
In the morning the sun loses its grip and grabs onto my wrists. I wake to her hands all over my body;
Not even she can warm me like you did.