empty hands

In the furthermost corner of a high school party,
feel free to zoom in on me
pressing borrowed cigarettes to my chafing lips
while pretending it's the kiss
of all the other people's girlfriends I have fallen in love with.
See me cloaked in shadows and the shrubbery
of someone else's garden, chatting to my only confidant
who calls someone else their best friend.

Even the blood cells now darting through me
are craving someone else's body.
My youthful lungs brag with each breath
of the life they could sustain.
Such an organ is a waste within a body that disrespects it.
Someone else's ribs could cradle my heart
after my body rejects it.