they say that we re-grow our skin every seven years
so by my calculations my body will forget the places
you touched me in approximately twenty two months which
is about a thousand times as long as the distance
between your bed and mine which is another way of
saying that i am moving on from you not so much by choice
but by forces beyond my control so i am trying to
imagine a way of holding onto this feeling that is
less foolish than a fleeting embrace which will soon
disintegrate into dust in this city where we are locked
in buildings throwing telephone wires like anchors at
one another trying to revive bodies that we have entombed
with keyboards and computer screens and false promises
trying to remember what it felt like to be interconnected
in a frequency beyond our wifi connections less about
body more about memory: the sound of my mother’s voice,
the scent of her laughter. what i mean to say is that you
crawled into the deepest parts of me and i am yearning for
an explanation that is less touch, more feeling. that space
that exists somewhere beyond the skin, that repository
of hope where things make sense again. they say that
they do not know why the human brain is so large but
i wonder if that’s because the parts of the universe
we do not understand are the parts where you are waiting
for me which means that i am coming for you i’m just
not sure when or where you will feel me

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