Your hushed voice made your collarbone shiver when you spoke.
You used to tell me that you wanted to become a vet,
And every time that peeled off your tongue,
You’d tentatively unravel my veins one by one.
Your words would tatter down to my ankle
And form a conglomerate nip,
And it pinched and tore and pulled at its nape.

Then you reached over and patted me au revoir,
And there was a lull in the tide’s reckless churning,
And it mutated into that crummy dry tear that sunk into my black Vans.
You said that we’re better strangers now,
So we stifled our cries and locked them away in jars down in our cellars.
Still fish above the water, gasping for air,
And we weep and we scream and we sing.

Your sweaty hand keeps grabbing onto mine,
And your waist still clinks into my rib cage,
Still counts and ridicules each hollow space in between.
You mimic my breaths unknowingly when our eyes catch stars
And we make sure that our pinkies don’t mesh anymore,
Even though we keep accessorizing and twirling our skirts,
But we whistle our song and give others the lyrics.