To your wrist

She was a goodbye letter
scribbled with good intentions
My bones ache
Like flowers widdled from ivory
Like spilled milk

It's Sunday and the sun hangs heavy
It's belly empty, mouth watering for something sweeter than storm clouds
and she was a storm cloud...
Swollen with the promises of chimneys and smokestacks
Of just because kisses
Of a mannequin romance

My bones ache
Like the spines of dying snakes
Like epilepsy the color of glue

My loneliness is tied around my ankles
You are a bridge I must jump off of
You are wooden floorboards
You are a tire swing

These bones are simply synthetic
I want you to shake me to the marrow
My fingers rooted into the sheets of my bed
Or perhaps into some vacant parking lot
Every "I love you" will come dripping out from the underbelly of my fingernails
Like eggshells
Like backwards promises

My eyes strung to the sky like kites
tie a key to my sockets and have my last breath burn you
Discover me
Id like that.

I want you to whisper harlequin romantics to all the unloved lovers
Because I never had the chance to
I want you to take there hearts gently from there heaving chests and show them it's not another useless organ
I know there affections have become vestigial
so pump it for them if you have to

I've been let go too many times
Like a helium balloon clinging to the ceiling of some mall.
You wouldn't leave me destined for the corners of a department store
You would tie me to your wrist