1. My body is not a tower resurrected to kiss the sky, I am a mere outline of what could be, drafted onto paper and left to disintegrate in a drawer. 2. He stole moments like polaroids and I taped them to the inside of my ribcage, so I could always be reminded of my reasons to breathe. 3. He whispered to me realities that were too sweet to ever exist in this era, so he promised me forever. Unlike most people, I went from being dead to being alive. I woke up in the middle of a dream and discovered that life is more than functioning organs and words; life is being awake for every moment. 4. I never stuttered before I-before I-I-I met him and now my words cut themselves into fragments and I wonder if he was ever listening at all. If at all. 5. With his cursed left hand he used to pen me love letters that I couldn’t read beneath the smudges. The pages constructed themselves into abstract works of art delicately smeared with smudged pencil and salted tear stains. It was enough to know that something beautiful had been written there- before it was gone. 6.The way he hugged me never fit quite right, like sidewalk pieces pushed together that crack and break with dandelion miracles, and exhausted stars. He was resurrected from the thieves of the industrial revolution, growing when others were forced to forge beauty in metal that tore against the blues in the sky. He was a vine, reaching towards the sky from my corpse, growing in the ruins of destruction. 7.His hands are windshield wipers erasing the rain that had fallen like my heart in a suicide against the pavement. 8. I started looking in the mirror harder, for what seeing his face had done to mine but my eyes pressed so hard against the glass it shattered, and now I’m blinded to our love. I picked up the pieces of my mirror and stared at parts of my reflection and imagined pictures that had been taken with our faces put together: they were broken too. When I dropped you- I shattered. 9.I never had the footsteps of a dancer; I never felt as light as a dandelion seed as it caresses the breeze, but god his breath was wind in my lungs and now I’m experiencing death by choking. He forced life down my throat, and now I’m swallowing myself. 10. I’m nothing more than a body built of words that we forgot to whisper when we thought everyone else was sleeping. I am alone again with myself and I can see the floor through my hands. 11. Please tell me why I’m fading. 12.My chest is a burial ground, spirits drift through my ribcage and I am constantly being opened from my torso to bury all these dead feelings. I am gone; my body was once filled with a pumping heart but I only ever heard a broken piano like wind chimes, whenever I expanded my lungs to catch just enough air for survival. My soul is a translucent butterfly net with an infinite capacity to fill itself with love. But hatred tears at the string that weaves it together, and I find that sometimes I receive love but don’t manage to pocket it because it’s always falling through holes. His I love you’s echoed in the in the hallways of spine and created an orchestra of song that would take forever to learn. 13. Still I am reminded that not all dead things rest calmly. You learned the dead language written on the inside of my skull and riddled it with cuss words. Destruction is not beautiful, he told me. You have to see something for it to ever be considered art. My loss was invisible. 14.I am not real until someone touches me. Endless bodies have taught me that I am not human unless I am with him. I am not real. He is too real. 15. He saw me walk through the wall in a dream. I don’t think he was unconscious. Sometimes your heart gives up after you start haunting. 16. I don’t want to go back to being invisible. I’m tired of hearing goodbyes and not saying them. He said I should sleep more. 17. I used to be ghost.