The nickname my mother called me 

As I sat on her lap

The sharpness of my bones

Impaling the warmth of her skin



The adult human has 206

It feels as if mine are trying to escape me

All of which one can see

Under a thin layer of damaged skin



I search for them under the muscles 

That I tone

Through making myself smaller



The ones that held me together

Experiencing my life with me

Moving me through motions

Without feeling what I have felt 

And continue to feel



Shattered. Scarred. Broken.




The frame on which I exist

Helping me put the pieces together

The foundation on which I can grow


My bones know me

Moving me to where I need to be

To thrive

To know what it feels like to live


Mom, call me bones one more time

Remind me where I’m growing from


Dear bones,


One day, I’ll know exactly what you need