i had a cut on my shin that day, and i could feel the salt digging into it with sharp fingers as the whole of the ocean licked at my kneecaps. there were goosebumps up my thighs,



down my shoulders




my winter skin fell against the ash of the horizon near-seamlessly. his was no different. we



huddled together in the blues and the greys, saltwater in our bellybuttons, cold wet hands grasping cold wet backs and shoulders, the heat of his breath threaded around my curls and dove



down into the cavity between our chests.




he was skinny and shivering, and i and i and




i was trying to steam clean him with my loving palms, smooth the wrinkles out of his deflated heart and open him up and climb inside.

as we sat &

turned around each other

i touched your face &

told you the news



you cut away from me

crying

dear i know. don’t you
miss
i have heard a real picture,
a lie,
a don’t-intend-on (times one milllion)
, very unbecoming
dessert wine // strange sweaters
It is the exact same proportions as what’s missing in my day-to-day.
it’s quitethemess and it was                      beautiful.

i remember you, little earthquake
and all those dark nights trembling together
that was my favorite season.
you and i, we handled each other like
porcelain and that made things awkward most of the time.
but -- thrillingly so.
you first showed me the right way to gather a girl's curves against my own
so that they lined up right and smooth
and how feminine vertebrae just feel so much silkier and
more pleasant under the fingertips.
i wish i could open my eyes one more time to your
head under my ear and your lips (the prettiest lips)
relishing the weight
of my name on them: "lady."
hey, about that time i touched you --
sorry for startling you.
and sorry for backing down so easily.
i wish we could have shown each other
even more of what it means to
feel girls and to
feel like a girl, finally a real girl.