What about the man who cannot touch anyone without them morphing into the only woman he loved and lost? Not recklessly, but like a river diverted by a stone’s weight,
Tired of silence, tired of rock, tired of orchestration, let me tune us in this evening to FM 91.1, The Point: “All y’all’s favorite home for the candid sounds of people sleeping.”
your hand swells my neck, pretty, you say i am, no matter how decimal-small. my eyelash flutters across your shoulder. gravity. you land on my chest skin—