bones

bones, lying in a trunk at the foot of my bed they're always open to show me that they're still dead and everyday it's harder still i am footed(?) and unfilled pain, i'm good with the ways there are to erase and i'm pancaked on the floor, you can't see my face cuz it's buried like the moon sober morning's come too soon bruise, it's coming to the surface, like the vessel it's been hidden for so long, you are the trestle that's there to hoist me up now this world without you is fucked skin, and it's warm enough to hold you and keep you breathing but it locks me out and makes me lose my needing and how long to be alone how will i carry these bones and i'm so far from not caring