Remember when
I confessed
that a body torn
is like meat pulled
through teeth.
Like pink skin
stuck in your
throat and stepping
into your abdomen.
Filling a body
(the way bones
often do). You
confessed you
thought the
prettiest thing
in the world was
conjured from
broken bodies.
So I gave you
a piece of flesh
from my wrist
and you kept
it hidden under
your tongue.