Wash your face to the mirror in an open robe while I watch you from the bed we made a pool of sweat again this afternoon a bedroom two months into a day it’s a shame when the parts fit it’s a shame when the parts fit but the machine won’t work all dressed up in the dream but without the wings heating up to fusion instead of a union even love can’t make two one it’s breaking me all I could have done all I did not do my exoskeleton heart you reach to through my ribs with your chipping fingers and revealing fingernails breathe into me breathe into me your the pale-skin gift that no god ever promised me thank you for my life.