i held your hand for the first time,
afraid you would hate the fuzz growing
just above my knuckles.
the night was too warm for the closing of September, ignited
by the messily-aligned stars—
my palms dripped
with the fear of driving you away.
it was like biting into a lemon dusted with sugar—
my teeth ached right down
to the chambers of my heart.
we rolled through the nights like squirrels barreling through piles of leaves—
every time i squirmed away
you nestled closer,
your hands like that song
we used to murmur,
trembling in the cold.
i am trying to memorize the shape
of your hands
in my hands—
i ache as i picture my nose, my ears growing out of my face—
my two hands warmed
by no one.
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