bone, blood, limbs, fingers
scar tissue & musculature
the olfactory, the tactile
all the ways we hand ourselves over, piecemeal
words that stick, ones that roll off
how her fire finds something inside you & lights it
stories we’ve been told & those we believe
victim, villain, hero, human
fears jammed into jars & stacked tall
memories like crushed glass
deeply worn grooves that take us around
aching, longing, blissful, sated
how her hair falls over you,
breath on your neck
©BARB REYNOLDS