burn

A Poem by Hermione

The burning elevator is coming back
down the spine and up the wrists
to the tips of my fingers
I can’t feel anything else
It’ll be here until I
scratch it out of myself
again and again
am I okay?
my heart is tiptoeing
the line between my ribs
it doesnt know
which way to go
and the only way down is up
I’m sorry
but part of me
seems to be missing