i'm only ever bones, covered by a canvas of skin,
stretched tautly over the secrets that i keep within my palms and the soles of my feet;
because i'm endlessly a canvas for life, for blood, for a pulse

my heartbeat whispers stories to my veins,
each vein distributes truth in an even portion throughout my body
my limbs stretch out, famished; hungry for blood, for stories, for whispers

my lips are dry and crackly like an amber leaf in autumn
they long to tell you what you already know, but haven't heard
they crack and bleed as they crave an ability to speak these tangled thoughts
crimson blood dries, only to form an aching linear scab on my throbbing lower lip

my fingers are shaking lightly as I rest my hand on the desk
fingernails chipped and cuticles ripped, these hands are my instruments
my thoughts flow through my fingertips like blood through my veins
I lay them down upon the page, watching as they turn into something beautiful

I hope one day you'll read these words, whether aloud or alone,
your rosy lips would form each word that I meticulously placed upon paper
your voice would speak things differently, a different inflection placed upon each word

I hope that you smile when you read these words,
these tangled thoughts and hopeful sentences,
the sort of smile that releases the gleaming within your eyes

because...you're beautiful when you smile.