If I were to, one by one,
Pick the bones from under my layers,
Strip them of damage and creation
And present them to you -
A settled way of apologizing -
Would you grind them down to
A huffable suggestion,
Or lay them next to you at night?
They would be clean, dry, and soft -
Like you said our love would always
Remain.
No matter where the saggy body goes,
You could have my hand to hold -
The fingers and knuckles bendable to
Any will you please.
Makeshift - ghosts just wish to be
Rid of the sag - share their
Bones, unburied.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.

ChrisJ

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