My skin absorbed your scent
when I would sniff myself hungrily
trying to lose myself, again

the smell of us would evaporate
too soon, I always thought
but I came to rely on this fact

after the summer ended for me,
the long winter months arrived
and left me alone to sink in limbo.

Please, believe me- I never knew
when I was drinking in your essence
that my softlywhisperbrush of a skin was, too.

And now, when the summer has returned
and it without you and with
my acceptance of your absence

you returned to a few of every inch of me I reclaimed as my own and
I started drowning in everything that used to be and wanting
to lose myself again, after all the battles
to pull myself back from the bonding I initiated and suddenly
I was inhaling my patch of skin so hungrily and then
it faded, and I was left wondering-
wasn't leaving once enough for you?

Darling,
I honestly believe that once you tear everything down
what you rebuild can be stronger than ever. When we demolish everything
down to the very foundations
you're forced to notice the flaws from last time. And you did notice, you did know
better than I did
that though I have no practice at anything
other than giving up and walking away, I am capable of rebuilding. That knowledge, it seems, is only the latest in you proving me wrong, showing me
I'm better than I think, letting me know in the best way possible, exactly how
I have underestimated you. Darling,
I could go on, but I think
I need to thank you for not listening
to my urging you
my urging the world
my urging myself- thank you
for not giving up on me.

Your shoulders look so heavy
as you carry them back upstairs
and even your feet are tired
as you trudge one. step. at a time.
You say to call you only
if three or four minutes pass
and there is no respite.
I understand, you know. Everyone
needs to rest sometime
and now is your turn.
I will always admire the stoic way
you face rigid limbs
and bleeding mouths, the way you
can remain calm
as bedsprings and bodies shake as one
the acceptance of life as you
have come to know it. Yes,
I admire, eternally unable to emulate. You
know what to do. I, on
the other clenched hand,
am constantly terrified. Please
don't leave me on guard-
I will never be ready to face the monster
eating my little sister from within.

We do not fit together as effortlessly as we used to.
But with all the clever implications,
maybe this is more honest.

The safety of you
makes me realize just how
almost none else are.

And after
the last time you touched me, I
used up a whole bar of soap, looking
for some trace of what used to
be clean. And after
the last time you touched
me, I would sit, huddled
against the cold plaster of our tub
after all the water had run
down the drain, shivering, for hours
and my family yelled
that I was in the bathroom for
too long. And after
the last time you touched me, my skin
was not my own, and it fit
in a way that I couldn't ever
name, in a way that made me sick
to my stomach until nausea painted
the walls of my mind and faded
into the background of my story.
And after the last time you
touched me, I wondered if I would ever
be good enough for someone or
anyone, ever again. And after the
last time you touched me I
would stare at the mirror and wonder how
such a healthy exterior
could ever be so hollow.
After the last time you touched me
and scooped out everything inside
I never thought to blame you-
after all, after everything,
I invited you in.