let me stand
It's in the way he breathes; lungs decompressing like the slow intake of oxygen tanks in an action that gives away the ever present pain. Nothing but the hallow encasing of a marionette’s ivory corset as his heart lays amongst a wired trap of cable cords/loose spark plugs like a rack of meat set behind the butcher's glass display.
Feels like his heart could tumble out if it weren't for the thin film canvas stretched over rib cage.
You could break the surface if you wanted with nothing but pointed looks but we both know it doesn't take the stinging of a knife to let you in on the inside. Cords tumbling amongst my feet, dragging, to leave trails of static or splotched ink before fingers are trying desperately to push the entrails back into their safe place.
I must have looked like a clown trying to put my insides together while stitching up the gaping wound with chicken wire. Heart temporarily forgotten until realization dawned that there were no longer the slow breaths accentuated amongst idle ticks. Fingers pressed out onto the fallen object before you'd taken to claiming it, palm resting over your own while those hands ensnared the very treasure I intended on keeping.
but...I came to realize it was never mind for the keeping.
{Don't really understand where I was going but I think I got the faintest bit of what I wanted. For Connie because I don't ever write as nearly enough as I should for you. I need to get better.}