please, touch me everywhere
it hurts.
touch these 300 cuts,
more or less,
my ribs —
breaking like museum columns,
my lips —
chapped from being sober
for a week.
please, touch me,
until misery feels
less familiar
than happiness.
touch me until deep talks
aren't about dying,
until walking away from life
feels less profound
than walking away
from omelas.

please, touch me everywhere
it hurts, darling;
i want to go through
all my breakdowns
in your arms.

please, touch me everywhere it hurts.

please touch me.

everywhere.