Untitled #4
When I found you,
you were cold in your room;
your pillow damp,
your eyes even more so.
“Why do I have to be so ugly?”
you asked, with a pretty half-a-smile.
My thumb mopped up a tear,
my lips did the rest.
I knew no answer would convince you,
so I just held you close,
and swallowed you,
along with all that you were haunted by.
I could feel your ribs.
