by Emma Applegarth

this empty chest of mine rests within me 

overcoming the parts of me that are whole

sacred things turn into ashes, regretful things turn into more

if i could put into better words how this feels within me

turning screams into meanings and meanings into sense

it would be all the more productive 

the tears fading into complexion and complexion into a better whole

the sky would feel less empty, and so would the chest inside of me

if only you were here to feel it

to rest your head and sink into me to fill me again