You told me I was **** when you touched me
on my chest and stomach,
but I am sure that I wasn’t **** at all.

I have memories of you
cradling me like a lion with his cubs,
except there was nothing paternal
to your touch or words,
and I felt no safety when I was
in your bed.
Not even when you told me not to worry,
not even when I came to you
to escape my nightmares.

You didn’t seem to understand
that you simply led me into new,
scarier ones.

i positioned my hair so that it wouldn't part in the wind or when I kissed you.
it made sense at the time to be enamored of something imaginary, i caught fish between my teeth and used toothpaste to get it out, used your fingernail to spread the minty flavor.
I told you lies so that you wouldn't touch me, but it was sad and unnecessary in the end
cold, without skin, i am only something you remember
and I parted my hair so that you could touch it.

the feeling of having you back in my arms,
the feeling of having you back inside of me,
I touched your scent with kisses until you fell numb,
having a seizure of joy in your mind.
i couldn't taste any remorse, but you were always good at hiding those sorts of things, and socks.

you can't hide feelings between the sheets
so we slept in separate beds and had separate dreams.
I wasn't sure why you cried at night,
and you weren't sure why I slept with earplugs
touching, but never feeling
used books on repair
second-hand gifts
back up plans
love