that girl

who knew
that such big dreams
could fit inside such a little frame.

but then again,
maybe that explains why inspiration
seems to have no choice
but to escape her form.
via sheer osmosis,
igniting the very air about her.

and those lucky few
in whose company she keeps, know
there’s more than enough magic to go around.

ribcage

when you told me
what you told me,
i know
you had imagined i might explode.
leave.
maybe take the midnight train
out of the city.
i’d been known for abrupt exits.
but then again, so had you.

and perhaps, had i met your expectations,
things would’ve been easier
for us both.

but i didn’t.

instead,
i lay there quietly.
taking long, contemplative breaths.
speaking in steady, hushed tones.
you lay beside me,
as we both struggled for words.

maybe it was selfish,
but in that moment, i wanted us to really feel it.
i wanted to watch the foundations as they crumbled.
to not look away in fear or regret,
or disgust, or nonchalance.

for it was our house, set ablaze that night.
and if the wreckage were to pierce this heart, i felt,
let it be through my chest. and not my back.
here was that space between my ribs,
it was always open for you.

if tonight should be my last

if tonight should be my last
– for it may always be so –
i’ll take one final, slow breath
burying it deep within my soul.
so that when i greet death,
he and i might share a laugh.

“thank you,” I will sigh, with but wisps in my chest,
“…for making meaningful this life I have led.”