I am building myself

a window around your lungs,

using wood from fallen trees

and melted sand because

I want to see your breathing,

hear that heart tapping against

the pane, the glass.

You say you feel

empty but do you see

those veins moving, you

see every skinny bone?

You are not alone, you have

hands, feet, and a tongue,

and they can do more than any

ending ever could.