though I crack just the same.
Hairline fractures,
fish bones in the drywall
where my fist made a home
when silence devoured me
like a starving thing.
Do you run your fingers
over my lines
like you once traced
the inseam of my denim?
What is this life
if I’m not headless,
chasing the thing
that vanishes
each time I near it
but still holds
my whole goddamn heart?
Do you think of me
as you draw your lines
your coffee cold,
your pen stalled
while I carve you
from nothing?
Right here, love
At the tip of this pen
this is where
you come alive.
Martina Sandora
Martina Sandora (She/her) is a queer poet and mental health therapist based in Illinois. Her work explores themes of memory, longing, identity, and the intersections of love and loss. She is passionate about guiding others toward self-actualization and shadow integration. She believes that art is a powerful force for connection, a way to spread love and understanding across distances, and a means of sharing the human experience.