my heart jumped out of my chest and painted portraits for you. my heart was never the bird in the cage. did you know that because of atoms we can never really touch anything how we mean when we use the word ‘touch’. there is more space than there isn’t space. i touch you and my skin does not become your skin. i keep thinking about your skin and my skin together but not touching. i keep trying to coax my heart back behind bones with bits of krispie biscuits. sometimes it says ‘i don’t want you because of that whole year you thought you were choking on something.’ my lungs are too cold because of empty space. i write in lowercase because capital letters indicate starting something which indicates finishing something which indicates room for error. i want to fold my bones into an origami swan. i am someone that could be someone if i stopped thinking about being someone. your skin is like the horizon line postcard i always carry around with me. if i were a postcard i would know where to finish because i would just run out of room.