Veins/Strings

I hold me up so clean and strong
but let your touch
lacerate me
wounds from my insides
out.
A single pitch from high strung wire
reverberate this plucked nerve
entire symphonies bleeding
from the site
I've learned to tone it down.
And I want it
this burlap sack over my head
breath control that I used to call
affection.
Deflate/inhale me until
I am a slippery pile of veins
more strings for you to play.
That is what muses do,
correct?
Wrestle your demons
offer our necks for the
art of it.
I wanted it
a blade of sound
to cut through the
weight
of what was not between us.

My body is afraid of speaking.

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