I watch him from the side,
my head bowed low.
he sits with his back
straight,
his hands folded,
his legs crossed.
he is still.

His eyes are wide
and his lips
slightly parted
to reveal a whisper of his delicate thoughts
to me,
I have realized
he had left me,
and entered
a different realm-
where I,
still would not wander
through his mind.

I watch his chest rise and
fall,
each oxygen molecule
that enters his nostril
and travels to his
leaf shaped lungs
and silks its way through
branches made of gold
to his still-beating heart
makes my fingers tingle
from the absence of his touch.

The professor speaks of black lungs and
still hearts,
but i do not need his
long words to know
rotten people.
i have felt their
claws buried underneath
shirts i can no longer
see or touch.

You are not rotten.
you have a perfect structure
you are beautiful.
when i look into your eyes,
i see a warmth glowing
from inside the marbled stone
that sits where your heart should be.
and i understand.
because if you knew that i was broken,
and you saw my wounded soul.
would you not hold me?
would you still let me fall?