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it takes all my strength not to dig you up from the ground in which you lay  

“i’m just a white blood cell fighting like hell for you”

I sifted elbow deep through your innards, digging for the person I remembered. I ripped back intestines, cracked apart ribs. And as I plucked out your heart strings I realized you were lost. At the end of it all I sat defeated, licking your remains from beneath my finger nails. Disappointment doesn’t register these days. I’ve grown accustomed to the swollen heart and tightened stomach. It’s not that I’m afraid of being hurt. It’s not that I can’t take the pain. It’s that I’m terrified to forget what it feels like to be okay.