january 3rd, 2002.
out. of.order.

i remember what it is like to have a hand in my hair

to have my hand flat against a belly under a shirt.

cushioned from the rest of the world in a circle of glances and

secret words conveyed through the smallest of gestures and expressions.

but it's not even that that i want right now

i want to just talk to someone and realize that a bubble is expanding around us and something new is being formed like fresh tender pink skin growing over a wound.

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