If I am borne from a bone that once
upon a time swore to guard your heart
then being held close by you should feel
like belonging or, at least, a natural habitat
of shared sin and shameless discovery

Instead I remember that I have always been
lost from you and unwilling to be buried again
beneath the skin of a man who doesn't know
the difference between a woman and a myth
or how willful ignorance is another way of lying

I won't settle for becoming your guilty heroine
when my own addiction is a taste for the unknown
and falling for you feels less romantic than a fall
from grace, exiled from a paradise that could never be
everything we were promised in the beginning

Either run away with me or watch as I leave
but do not wrongfully accuse me of stealing
a piece of your chest when we both know
what I am made of and that I have always been
far more than a rib hewn from the dust of you