We sat on the bed until the sun went down and the room went dark. Even without light, I still knew where to find your shoulders. I’d knead out the knots there, underneath that soft skin of freckles and sweat, and try not to cry. Your voice became a hiss. The tongue of a snake who aches for biting. You pulled away, removing your shoulders from my reach. Making that space between our bodies an ocean. So I recoiled in the dark, brought my hands to my knees and let them stay there. They are small things, these hands. Tiny fingers of prominent bones and crooked nails. Tiny wrists and calloused fingertips. They have wrapped themselves around this love and shook, and shook, and shook, until there is nothing left to hold. .C

We sat on the bed until the sun went down and the room went dark. Even without light, I still knew where to find your shoulders. I’d knead out the knots there, underneath that soft skin of freckles and sweat, and try not to cry.

Your voice became a hiss. The tongue of a snake who aches for biting. You pulled away, removing your shoulders from my reach. Making that space between our bodies an ocean.

So I recoiled in the dark, brought my hands to my knees and let them stay there. They are small things, these hands. Tiny fingers of prominent bones and crooked nails. Tiny wrists and calloused fingertips. They have wrapped themselves around this love and shook, and shook, and shook, until there is nothing left to hold.

.C