I like the way that things fit together

Like the way my knees

Fit just in my eye sockets.

Sometimes I press my

Closed eyes into the curves

And feel a little less




The spaces underneath your


Is perfect

With my face buried deep inside

And perhaps if you would let me

I could build a home

Hidden under your bones.



Maybe if I stayed

I could grow a garden

Plant flowers, daffodils perhaps.

Flowers would bloom

Inside your heart

And bulbs of ideas would

Root themselves into your mind.



I push my knees harder

Until I cannot feel where the two pieces



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