Ode to Faces

 My skull broke to let you in. We sit in the dark, sharing thoughts like lights fusing shadows around us. We can fold and unfold- bend and break- until we finally have faces.


A dream within a dream, a play within a play, a mind so twisted that it somehow makes sense between us. I was once burning in flames of apathy, salty rivers leaking down my spine until they dissolved into a million streams polluted with fragments of ash and marrow, eventually trickling through the soles of my feet and ceasing to exist when the earth swallowed them whole.

But now I only live to feel.

My thoughts are free, but this time there's not a soul to swallow the loss.  There's no loss to swallow.

Even the static in the quiet air means that life is not through with me. It tangles me tightly in its threads. I am grateful- even for the way it squeezes my wrists, cuts off the circulation to my lungs, and breaks my back... It makes me terrified and comfortable all at the same time.

 Sometimes bones must break before they can heal.

I wouldn't have it any other way.