Home Room.

I left a note

in your locker

slipped it through the bones

of your ragged ribcage

knocked against your chest

before the bell rang

scribbled over old wounds

and labored breathing

with my thin handwriting

Sorry to force my way in

I forget the combination

guess clumsily at the digits

turn myself this way and that

writhe back

work it out walk it off

I open back up eventually

but my wrists are weak

this paper is crumpled

Written between blue lines

along the sinew

our tired veins

(if this is us

if this body is yours now, too)

“this is my heart,

this is my heart”