I hold anxiety in my breath like a flameless candle, burning and unburnt. The bones of my hips hold memories, chipped, melting into my womb. My fingers hold malice and death, grasping at cruelty with tips made rough by want. The long bones of my thighs hold the night we found each other. Open, unafraid. Your love exists in the skin pushed taut across my breastbone, scarred and freckled. Fresh paper for your words. Smooth winter. Crystalline and velvet. Never entered. Never turned away. Planed by trauma, by grief. Risen by your breath.

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