fossil

with auburn brushstrokes, i draw
little leaflets spelling out your name
n e v e r a g a i n.
stirring the bitter lip-biting moments
out from underneath you.
you have dirt under your nails, and in your hair-
time buried you where nobody would ever look
between the cobalt and coal, blackened by old souls
in untold stories, scars around the eyes of smoky storms
jolting hearts from rest,
to remind us of the weather before the sunset
the rain on that desert that held your regrets.
i am the rib cage you walk out of
when you forget a silver spoon,
to find a rusting stilleto and hide it away,
disease you can come back to.
your own little decay.