minor edit for grammar a/o l0ve the content.

you don't make sense

when i'm writing about

you until four in the morning,

the only part of the anatomy

that makes sense is your heart,

beating out of sync with mine,

my blood running through

veins that cannot find

destinations, there is

nothing to connect

to, for i am: no

longer

human.

do not tell me,

'yes, you are,' for

my biology, my homo

sapien anatomy, does not

define everything that makes

a person whole.   my skin is that

of a dragon, armoured and carved

to deflect.  my eyes are those of a

monster,  ice chips in stone

sockets.  so don't tell me

anything, for i have

spent years detaching

myself from that side of my

biology - i don't conform to that

any more than magic conforms to physics. 

 

i

don't know why

i

can't just grasp

the concept of you,

but you keep slipping

through my fingers,

running laps in my

palms, mocking my

smile.  someday, i wish

to find someone who will 

love me as much as i love them. 

 

the first time i saw you, 

you cussed me out in a low

voice and i'm pretty sure i

closed my door in your

face.  funny how things

turn out, i guess, because

you grin like you're 

jagged, just dying

to make things

bleed.

The End

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