I give you this gift and then take it back. This gift is my hair. Three strands. I sew them like dark string. I touch your mouth to my mouth. I heard you are going away and I don’t mind. I heard S. moved to my future home and I feel dread. I took so much from you and I want to give it all back now
Now a dozen little cuts on our skin from grass. Forget how that felt. And warmth. It is February and so you will never feel that again. In the future the ice melts and forms, melts and forms until-- I want to give back everything I took. I did not always ask permission. I have never felt guilt like this. I miss the little cuts and the ache.
Forget also every promise. Tear the knots. After the shower, my necklace breaks. I don't know where to go from here. I will be the same: no fuller, no emptier. I do not remember ever feeling any different than this. But I must have. I remember crying. And my body feeling warmth starting in the stomach, up and down.