Aching Curves

I am so tired of being ill.
I can hear my breathing – My ribs are breathing.
My lungs have reached my ears.
The pain increases when my eyes try closing – like blinds turning away from a sun.
Word do not pain like coughing does.
Keep curling up until I crumble in to my bones.
Why bury me in sand when I am in me.
My lungs try speaking – now, my mouth dries.
My moans depend on their ease.
Oh, purple is not a pretty color.
They are painted and soft, yet smell of pills.
A breath in the cost of each rib.
It will take a lot to love me – there is only so much that aches.
A stomach very empty and a hallucinated mind.
Do not even shed one, you will pay your breath. Shh, shh.
I will never fall still, I can not stand.
Then all you think – will come pouring out on the marble.
Oh, darling, stop.

My lungs want to scream as my bones turn numb.
Oh, my eyes keep closing.


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