your laugh like a scream in a chapel     the smoke that haunts you
the black tea in the pit of your belly    your rum-kissed teeth
the way you scoff at la la land     the clothes you sewed yourself
your missed calls at midnight     your unpierced ears
the bleeding blue and orange and purple on your arms     that grey ring
your death glare     your broken tote bag
the way the air cracks around you and flattens when you leave
my frozen jaw     my dormant chest
the chasm you leave between my ribs

The shade relies on the sun for definition
so charge me, lest I fade.
My outline only cements when you tap your ink
and your color
completes me.