These Bones

I am done believing 

in broken men

I am tired

of thirsty texts

empty heads

being left on read

I am through with 

opening myself up 

just to have the door shut

because the thing about trust

is that it does not 

grow on trees

in fact, I would put more trust in a tree

because at least 

I would know 

the depth of its loyalty

but with everyone else 

it feels like

they want to cut me open

to count all my rings

chop me up

and burn me

to warm their homes, 

when I know something else 

is meant for these bones. 

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