Aching

I feel my bones

Trying to crack, break

Out from my skin.

I don’t love you, I say to myself,

I don’t love it, the dream of life.

I sit still to feel my chest rise and fall,

A chemical reaction to a comical ruse,

A folly of medicine and physical intimacy

In the mirror.

I rip open my tongue

To speak louder,

Can you hear the name I kindle deep

Inside my nestled womb,

Can you paint over my face

And twist my petals

To form

Something less aching,

Less than death?

I’m aching,

Bleeding with no blood,

Crying with no tears,

Where are you

Where are you

Where is my dreamer

Where is my aching to live

Without aching from death?