If I touch myself,
I can still feel the edges
underneath my skin
where the metal pierced,
when my vision went black
against the red orange concussion
where the ground gave way
under my feet and
I walked on air,
head over heel,
because I touched
stripped nerves to contacts
I could not see
in a land I did not know
on a road
I never traveled before
with you.
The shards of your
exploded heart still left in me.
Still working their way back out.
