Count the times and ways and places.
Tie knots in a string of pearls
coiled around your finger
and begin to see the bud
of something new.
A bonfire on the Fourth of July
when your hands were strangers.
Hurried trips to the grocery store.
Tie-dyed tshirts and handfuls of popcorn.
Laughing on acid and
twisting my ****** rings in the dark.
Fistfuls of thick dark hair
and cigarette
and cigarette.
Writing a poem at 6am
to forget the warm emptiness
hidden in my duvet cover.
So many stories embellished
and coats set across a leather chair.
Rolling the fringes of the terry coat
that looks far lovelier
draped over your shoulders.
Cracks and fissures
from housekeeping chemicals.
Fists of frustration.
The fading burns from melted sugar.
Small reminders.
Kindness.
Strength and insecurity
and dancing  
and spelling love across my back.
And other things we do with our hands.