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RUINED by Angela Cheveau

In the ruins of me lay down your head
rest awhile, pitch a tent, watch night
flicker through the canopy of my ribs
stars revolving in the sky of my chest
but please, tread gently here,
let your footfall be soft
through my shadowed halls
my windswept, hollowed corridors,
I once was hallowed ground
my skin, a meadow of dancing, scattered light
so please, touch me gently, for
my walls hold hidden histories
unroll the secret scroll of my skin
climb the steps of my spine, a stone stairway rising
from the soft hillock of my buttock
stroke each cool, rocky, ridge
with the breaking dawn of your smile
listen, to the whistle of my breath as it whispers
my story across the long grasses
gild each of my flaws with the laquered gold
brushstroke of your lips
kiss each of my bones as if it were a relic
something precious unearthed
beneath the light of your eyes bury me
in your soft skin the bloom of the moon
a deep ache blossoming in the endless night of me,
Everywhere hurts.
Hold me lightly,
as if I were something sacred
a shard of stained glass,
a piece of broken pottery
perfect in the palm of your hand
hold me tenderly, hold me kindly,
as I need to believe that somewhere,
there is someone, who feels like home,
a warm hearth, a candle flickering gently,
welcoming me back in from the dark.
I need to believe there is someone,
who in the ruins of me, will still find a place to lie,
a place to rest their own tired bones.