While We Metamorphose

My voice broke on the edge of breath. We stripped the bark from our ribs like trees to find no center. Blood is a language we forgot in churches. I held your absence like a flame burning under my tongue, while skin remembers the names we never spoke. I was becoming not better just closer to the fracture before the old name. And you fell into me like a glyph not carved. We did not rise we undressed.