exoskeleton
you're an empty, hollow beast. you don't laugh - you just mimic it, the sound reverberating from your stomach, up out of your mouth. metal hands run under boiling water to pretend warmth. i cannot tell if the ticking in your chest is a time bomb or a watch - i know for sure that either way, it is not a heart.
stars streak across the sky, a child cries. during it all, your glass face shines. where is your sympathy? i want to carve bloody lines into your chest and down your arms, but i know that when the knife meets you, all that will happen is the sharp sound of metal on metal.
ugly, immovable beast. your voice is that of cheap, tinny speakers. the words you speak are born blue-faced and still, umbilical cord wrapped around the neck. i love you holds the same amount of tenderness as i wish you were dead, coming from your mouth. i wish you'd wrap those crude metal arms around me and hold me until i could not breathe, smothered by a kindness i know you can never feel.
water pours down and shatters against your cheek. with your eyes closed and face upturned like this, it is almost like you are weeping. your fists do not curl in on themselves. your shoulders do not tremble. you stand still as a monolith. in this moment, i wish you could cry. my back faces yours, and i pretend that the sound of raindrops is you sobbing.