on skeletons

they're all here, buried
in slightly shallow graves to plague me
when i'm just waking
i thought i crushed them inside my
trash-compactor chest, dear, but you know
i've been lingering and they've been rotting
away inside me, just eating,
the greedy little bastards, and you know
it will never stop
this cycle of bones, walking talking skeletons;
and matthew i will tell you that you are the only one
but there are always more--
matthew, you are the only one;
i suffered through your wordless accusations in silence,
dozens of them, and i will suffer through dozens more,
i promise you, before these years are over
but there is a gap between my memories
and there is a gap between the colored version of you
that i look at every day without seeing and the
rusty, rotting statue that comes out at night to throttle me
matthew, it was always ever you but now there are too many skeletons,
and i can hardly tell which ones are real and which ones are not