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I’d wear it on my sleeve, but life has worn it away.

August 8, 2014

You could build church foundations from the material found behind the bones of my chest, but you couldn’t found a church on it.
You could preserve vegetables for a long journey by locking them away behind my ribs, but you couldn’t cook them there.
You could find words of comfort written in veins between my lungs, but you couldn’t find comfort.
You could get lost forever in the empty space between my spine and breast, but you couldn’t stay there forever.
You could erect a billboard of fantasy love by wedging it between the muscles of my ventricles, but you couldn’t get me to notice.
You could be oxygen, and then maybe my heart could beat for you.
You could be beautiful, but I can’t give you anything.
You could be happy.
Maybe.

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