the most selfish thing i will ever ask you to do is tear your chest apart and look inside. rearrange your organs and press against your spine. snap apart your sternum and see if you've made enough space inside yourself to love me.
but you're in my fucking skin and it's leaving me with bruises. i made space for you the night you drove me to the bridge and when you climbed on the roof of the school and when your hand was on my thigh and when i let you slip inside me. i peeled back enough layers of skin for you and vacated my ribs, promising you a home.
have you made enough space for me?
