Love Letter Torn From a Rib

I tore a letter from inside my ribs not a heart, just the script of your name written in red ruin and birth fluid. You were never mine. You were my plague. And still I prayed at your shadow. Every sentence you whispered became a worm in my lung, a hymn stuck in the throat of a dying god. And yet, when the mirror begged me to choose life or you I held your rot and kissed it clean.