My eyes open in a room dark to blackness whenever you speak my true name. You called it out over the piece of obsidian we polished together, our digits linked and woven in our scrying. You gave my words to the faces of dark gods while yours never even crossed my lips.
I opened my world to you and your fingers reached under my ribs. I carry their scars in my chest and each sunrise wipe away the pinlets of blood. The night before last, I cried ugly into the void, begging you to hear my voice. Yet now my sleep goes undisturbed, and I still cannot dig out the fragments of your pretty bones.