Count my ribs with your fingers through my skin, I'm layered like a stone fruit.

My deconstruction is earth quaking

My aftershock is charming

My goosebumps are a compliment

I collect from the floor all that belongs to me and leave with a key in my pocket meant to unlock you later.

I'm a glow worm, attracted by my own light. I gut myself like you never could.

Don't worry dear, you're safe for now

since I've turned you into poems.

Unworthy of a name.

Pigeons are content with my offerings

and so should you be.

But

I'll shred you later.

Tonight I was preoccupied, bored of your songs juvenile love cries. Straining my ear toward the outside traffic longing for some real waves crashing.

Though I did leave you a memory,

the wallpaper above your bed unglued with the breath of me.