tenuous spaces, and concrete softness of wounded cells

slip the back of your hand past my fears slowly

as if learning

the outside curves of my thighs,

trace the doubts

that come from rejection

as if following the line of my spine

now very gently... please

let your soul glide within still open wounds

cuts

scars

many twisted cords,

you say it was so easy

to love my chaotic, damaged spaces

when at times,

I could not even see

one deserving string of light

between my tired muscles

and frozen air

that always lingered on the cold glass

but now... my darling,

I am learning the feel of spring between hearbeats

and the notions of your hands on my soul

it calls for you

all in me, it calls for you