The Lonely Bones

You were less sound, more fury...

Less sound, more music.

In a world with a thin line between restlessness and recklessness,

we found refuse in blanketforts and shared loneliness.

You found purchase in my chest.

A chest that only became thinner as you came to know it - 

You told me once you could hear my machine guns.

"Well, as long as you can't feel them -"

And you remind me that our guns are different but the wounds the same.

You treated my cigarette burns and scratch marks.

When I winced you told me the hurt means it's healing,

and I never told you at the time,

but by god all I could think is I must be healing than.

I've always known it was either my head or my heart that were broken.

A well disguised suicide is discovering you've died before anyone else does.

And neither of us can stand to lose eachother

but we don't even know when we lost ourselves.

We've both been hurt by kind gods.

Both know what time gas stations stop selling beer.

Both sought salvation in snakes.

But you smile at me...

with tobacco teeth and saucer eyes.

Your fingers wander from my faded tattoo...

to my elevated scars...

to my exposed ribs.

And you remind me,

once again,

That just because this isn't heaven doesn't make it hell.