i want to fall into myself,
to wrap my arms around me, and build a wall of bones.
i want to shrink my skin,
shrinkwrap my spine,
i want to be texture, ridges, thorns.
my core burns clear, contracting in,
it hones my spikes against the world.
i am sharp edges, protruding lines,
i am hard, and small, and taut.
at night, i run my hands across my skin,
i read my body’s Braille-like maps.
i ravish the spurs, caress the spine
and become my greatest lover.
i don’t need to see— i feel my past,
my history etched in tactile tattoo.
to write myself, i crawl inside and pull:
to read my stories, feel my bones.