Home Room.
I left a note
in your locker
slipped it through the bones
of your ragged ribcage
knocked against your chest
before the bell rang
scribbled over old wounds
and labored breathing
with my thin handwriting
Sorry to force my way in
I forget the combination
guess clumsily at the digits
turn myself this way and that
writhe back
work it out walk it off
I open back up eventually
but my wrists are weak
this paper is crumpled
Written between blue lines
along the sinew
our tired veins
(if this is us
if this body is yours now, too)
“this is my heart,
this is my heart”
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