Do you think there is a slight gap between your skin and the muscles beneath it? The limbo between vein and scars. And oxygen runs through it, sending chills running from your spine to your soles. Do you think that gap exists? Because more times than not, I swear I can feel the vacancy under my skin cells, the itch of nothing until you reach the things that physically make up who I am.
YOU ARE READING
he/him/you
Poetry[completed] some half assed thoughts i've had about unrequited love and unnecessary hope shattering revelations
