Within

you disappeared into my body like

I was an open house, you

found a home in between my lungs and settled like dust, you splayed tendons

and began to climb between my ribs, slowly made an incision inside me too raw to be resewn,

I feel 

infected and overexposed, 

orange soda and week old coffee encrusted in a plastic cup on the windowsill everyday, 

the smell is too close to vomit everyday, it sticks to my bones

you found a hiding place in my throat and behind my tongue, worked your way through my arms to straighten the knots and twisted muscle I worked so hard to contort into immovable structures

now,

I can’t seem to get you out of anywhere other than my head

About the Author

Sophia Sar is a sophomore psychology major who writes poetry in her (rare) spare time.