on fingertips

I wonder what it’s like to
from one wreck to another-
so I face the mirror and look.
Twice ruined. And you’re my

I lose
all the names
Ill count on fingertips
As I crawl
for more,
in and out of hearts
(and beds).
Their more is less
than your less.

No one speaks with
your scratchiness, and
The marks they made
like they too quickly run away
from my skin.
I trace those places you touched;
the scars that left me in darkness.

You expanded my consciousness
So I could sense you everywhere.
And I do–

(but here.)

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