nostalgia creeps up my shoulders
with these seductive
pair of hands

dragging fingers across the cliff of my bent neck
swiping strands of hair
over collapsed vertebrae
its mouth comes in close and
hot
to my neck
teeth grazing my arteries
and this pair of hands
cups my eyes
and i sink relaxed
relieved of responsibility
freed of
right now

oh memory
yes i do hear you
always
in guitars

either my dad singing
and strumming me
to sleep

or in the boys who frequent my room
trying to keep nervous hands
busy