"People aren’t maps. Or homes.
No matter how hard you try,
you can never fold another into
your back pocket.
You will never occupy the same
space as someone, regardless of
how intently you dig your claws
into their flesh.
Don’t try to eat their bones.
Don’t suck on their tears
like they are holy water.
I am done with comparing your
eyes to glowing embers,
your palms to shallow bowls of lake,
your heart beat to continental drift.
Every poem has made you more human,
each word carves you into
a marble statue. A monument
you are not deserving of anymore.
I am tired of thinking you are
more than mortal.
A person is a person. Nothing more,
nothing less. Just a collection
of bones, some flesh and a
bunch of nerves. Not a map.
Never a home."