Nails are stuck in my rib cage because it turned into a coffin. Held a funeral for my heart and I can still taste the sweetness from the flowers they threw at me. My heart rests heavy in my chest, but I’m still light as a feather. My mom says it’s from one of my angel wings and I roll my eyes. She tells me if I actually let myself believe it then maybe I’ll finally cry. I keep a drought behind my eyelids and stare into dark pools. I can’t look in the mirror without seeing a grave. I memorialize the pieces of my heart that will stay buried and I think a part of you knows it’s true. But, some days I feel infinite. Some days I know I am. Some days I feel the nails clench the corners of my chest as an eerie reminder. The vastness grows gently and I hold onto the gloom for safekeeping. It’s all I know and it’s now a part of me. And I still hate that I was able to build a garden out of those fucking flowers. Please tell me if it blooms. -AMT©️