How
thin
you
look,
How
your
ribs
protrude
From
your
skin
Like
a
lost
dog.
I
want
to
be
the
meat
On
your
bones,
The
delicious
bits
You
savor
like
memories.
I
was
made
to
be
part
Of
you,
A
single
shooting
star
In
the
night
sky.
Together
we
would
be
whole,
A
galaxy
of
constellations
Showering
down
on
us
From
the
pitch-‐black
heavens.
We
fit
like
puzzle
pieces
Ever
expanding
outwards
Like
generations
to
come.
As
I
lean
my
head
against
Your
ribs
and
count
them,
As
I
count
my
blessings…
Like
sheep
to
fall
asleep.
I
wonder
if
I
shattered
Beneath
you,
Would
a
piece
of
me
Pierce
your
Patient
heart?
By
Jocelyn
Mosman
30