Between the Ribcage

I gaze at her sunken smile whilst she dissipates behind the treeline 

I whisper our savory moments all over her and call out to solitude 

I have a hankering for discomfort, an urge to be broken

Not because I’m a masochist

I greet pain with clean hands

I thank a fake god that I can feel anything at all.

It’s not agony that I desire

I crave the piecing myself back together

That's where I’ll stumble upon this heaven I so desperately have been searching for,

Between the ribcage

and pumping lifeblood.