for you, arms open, mine closed.
at you the way I do, fingers on your skin, kissing your tattoos.
on your words, your limbs, your love, past the end of you, when you magically mysteriously fell, night chased to the edge, no hope in hell, out.
just a cheap imitation of me, place-holding your love where I used to play games in proximity, where I’ll be.
when you moved her dresser drawers to build your desk, deconstructed her spot, her place, her niche, closed the corner in her heart where you deftly hid.