Let it peel off of me like strips of sunburned skin.
The brittle layers crack,
curl at the edges.

I know how to feel without flinching.

I will walk bare,
pink and new
relinquishing what I've shed.

Let those crusted shields cling to earth,
those paper-thin husks
scuttling, a cicada’s shell in the wind.

Sun‑bleached and unrecognizable,
Here, in this ragged aftermath,
Flesh open,

I know how to feel without flinching.

You linger on my breath,
biting at my tongue.

Before I speak,
words spill from my lips,
dripping down my chin.
Sentences tangle with saliva,
like loose threads at your feet.
I leave them to slither
down the indentations in the floor,
cracks in the wood symmetrical
to the lines you drew on their bodies
with your careful fingertips,
gathering like dead skin
under your nails.

Those postcard summers,
burnished by the sun,
our feet suffering against
the heat of the yellowing grass.

We tripped over our sneaker strings,
chasing the pavement,
our feet peeking out from beneath frilled dresses.

I remember how my chest clenched
when the boy next door,
with the hair we made fun of,
tied your laces in double knots
and left mine uncoiled.

I remember how we drew the longest hopscotch,
and the boy next door had his arm around your waist
like a dress.

My hands tickled my pockets
for what use were they if not tangled with yours?

I’m afraid to miss the pictures we painted
With the pads of our fingers
In the haze of car windows.
I'm afraid to walk past your house,
to wait for you at your doorstep
and find only the smudged
signatures of snails
scrawled across the concrete.

I still need you when I’m weak
and I'm trying not to be weak
But its dark and
I'm lonely and
I wish I was running my hands across your face

And I crave you always
But I give you space

Tear off my lace with your teeth
And In our vulnerable state
we’ll think the world’s weight
Has gone away,
And I won’t feel scared
Like I usually do.

Fall into me
And lull me away
I'm tired of counting sheep
Hold me till my skin stops shivering
Kiss me till I fall asleep

I am living by the ocean,
waiting for you to wash up with the waves.
Hours stretch and yawn like a tabby cat
lazily flicking its tail to the drum of a
grandfather clock.

Has time forgotten me?
Has it left me abandoned?

Crossing days off the calendar seems almost
inconsequential.
But, the moon still rises and sets
tending to the tides like a mother.

Missing you comes in waves,
The stillness of a pond crescendoing
to crash against the shore.