Heave, Pulse, Heave

   I am bearing my heart to you

Heave

Pulse

Heave

Heave

I am bearing my heart to you

my hands are bloody

Pulse

Heave

I hear you.

Porcelain boy under pressure

I can hear you stirring.

Chittering of veneers

I am bearing my heart to you and

It wasn’t right

Not for fault of your hands

Not for fault of your need to tend open wounds

Stitching my gaping chest together while I press my

Pulse

Beat

Red thing against your chest and

Pulse

You keep tending to my wound

Licking like a dog

sewing sewing stitching

An air bubble into my body

I could cry for you to be rougher

To bite into me with your feline eyes

I could weep for your hurt on my jaw

Nothing will become of it

Ever the sweet thing you

Beat

Skip

Bearer of my core

you’ve cared for me in a way that’ll line my bones

But the stagnant air is breaching my throat

And I will be empty a little longer,

my hands will drum along all the same

You have not torn me in two,

though the patchwork sears all the same

Heave

Pulse

Heave

Seam rippers

maybe pliers

Detangling, undoing your

Pulse

In my chest

Shards of porcelain churn out like tears of rain