He was afraid that he said the wrong thing,
so I explained to him
that we are not porcelain,
we won't fall apart at the slightest of touches.
And as scared and small and frail as I feel,
I remind myself that I am
flesh and bone and muscle and mind
and a body that fights every day to keep me alive.
We are not porcelain,
so don't be afraid to jostle us, love.
It has been awhile, my friends. I write less poetry when I feel content.