Author: Ryann Taylor
Bare toes claw your wild leg hair
Skin suffocates skin— over and over again
You open the fridge, yellow bottles rattle—
Not your own.
My chapped lips encompass a water bottle.
One hair that peeps over the others
And a nose that sniffles day in, day out.
I keep searching for words—
And words I am lacking.
In words— there’s a thought that I could keep you
Apart from my “work.”
But you’re a part of my words.
Precious indeed.
Broken porcelain piled on your desk,
The scattered pattern on your chest;
Safety to me.
I dream of the suffocating smoke that once spun
To your ceiling—is it home yet?
Your clothes are strewn on the floor.
Wrinkled, folded, and kicked in their residence.
Sheets scrambled. What dreams do you have?
A gentle hand to comb—
And the other
Protecting
My tender scalp.
I said I would keep you separate.