how could i be with your skin like this. you've already made splinters of yourself. here i am savoring, asking for another piece. just the one. put it back in my palm. here i am making a puzzle of you. you’ve already scattered piles of these intimacies. this time you lay flat in my bed. how could my fingers be nimble enough to realign these corners and curves. how does a heart pivot like this. you don’t know i’m made of tendrils too. here i am spindled, threads tattered. pull here and loosen me to spiral. touch me in one spot. less pressure. spin faster. speak slower. tell me you’ve always wanted me new like this.