the sound of my gun.
i wonder when i go
what my bones will feel like
the noise they will make
the way they will fall

will they crash and crackle like fireworks
pieces falling this way and that
an audience perhaps
anti-climactic at best
they clamber home to their pets and their bills
with a story to tell
of my bones
crackling in the night.

or perhaps my bones will slide gently into the ground
they will melt in your hands
i will be so fragile and delicate
you could blow me your kiss and my bones
my bones would catch a ride
and drift off into the night
like soft petals slipping silently
the sand will settle and my presence will seem
oh so natural

i hang from my bones
wondering what i feel like from the inside
wonder what my destruction will sound like
crunching or sliding
what i will look like
destroyed or melted

my bones are so infrequently on my mind
when i feel them aching
i know they're there
but it is only now
tonight

i wonder what their destruction will be like
before i even understand what their life looks like

look at me.
i am just like everybody else.

our words will wind up in my books.

"there is just so much i want to say to you."
"whisper it in my ear when i'm sleeping. that's what i do."