I can hear the wind whistle
between the bones in my chest.
My rib cage door opens
and closes with every breath.
A click-clack
as they contract.
Pointedly protrude
when they expand.
You hand me your "I love you"
on an empty heated plate.
My stomach acid swirls,
it's draining at a rapid rate.
Not a bitter pill,
it's easy enough to swallow.
You know I don't take sugar.
So the capsule, too, is hollow.
YOU ARE READING
HEAVY
PoetryIn this collection of poetry, Fee writes about their experience with mental illness, gender identity, relationships and finding themself as a seventeen year old.
