i thought you’d be here, by now

i am looking for you
and your cadavers

open me up, like they promised,

delineate the insides dismissed casually,
perpetually, the insides of me

your scalpel is the light
your hands, tools for healing

throw out the anesthetic,
dig into the outline anyway

i am pusing, impatient
for you, to know

for me, to feel whole


This entry was published on April 25, 2013 at 12:46 pm. It’s filed under creative conversation, creativity, emotions and stuff, heart, life, photography, poetry, words, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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