i feel everything.
i feel you in the crevice between my
shoulder blades,
that dipped secret space
that you slowly traced
with the tiny ridges of a spine
like a road travelling top to toe
reaching deep, far down below.
i feel everything.
i feel the raised hairs on my neck
when your breath collides with mine,
this heated kiss of two exhales
and nothing else touching besides,
so close to you, so unmarred by me,
a shiver over lips, over thighs.
i feel everything.
i feel the weak shine of my
burning bursting eyes
that strain too hard, and i feel
the little paths of each and every vein
leading from around me
to my aching brain,
and i map them with trembling nails
that fear to do damage, to break
past the glossy white shell
and press under, through the mush
and the jelly
straight to my soul
(as they say i will
if i simply push hard enough).
anything, just to dig out something
that reminds me i'm here still.
i feel everything.
i feel my heart like an absence
deep in my ribs, this murky stain
where you used to be,
while you're washing me out your clothes
and brushing my kisses from your hair.
i feel it when i press my hand
against my chest, over the breast and
under the skin and through bleached bone
and i do not fear to damage
something already damaged,
because i cannot hurt myself
more than you managed.
i idly wonder if i press beneath will
i be led straight to my soul,
as they say i might
if i simply push hard enough.
anything, just to dig out something
that reminds me you were here.
but i push against nothing:
my hands remain clear.
i feel everything.
i feel you like water over my fingers,
i feel you when you did not linger.
i feel you and i silently grieve.
i feel you only when i breathe.
