I used to think that bodies were repulsive,
the idea of them too vivid.
Blood flowing through veins, bruises swelling beneath soft skin
the sound of tongues smacking against upper palates,
the scraping of fingernails along irritable arms,
That was until i watched the way your pulse thumped against your neck
a bird trying to break through the soft spot
between your collarbone and your jaw.
I intertwined my fingers with your ribcage
and felt the story of you, and i, and all those that came before i,
carved right into your costals.
Stuck to you like flypaper,
the memories of them
Your bones told me more than your words ever could
knuckles pressed against my chest
hips outlining my spine,
perfect parentheses encasing me, even if only momentarily.
Every gulp and quick inhale a cacophony of your making,
Your drumbeat pulsing against my palms,
Beneath soft skin, a gallery of
Spots and scars
Speckled and honest and real.