loneliness is a heartbeat:
the constant thrumming of your absence in my body.
how can i have met you this early, and crave you this late?
in the crevices of my bones—
between my joints, crooked into the lapses of my spine—
your name, your taste, your voice collide
and leave me spent for the chemical pleasure
of reaction. if i
was exoskeletal i could wear you on my sleeve:
but, mammalian and hot-blooded, i keep you warm,
i hold you close as bones.