I Do Know Who You

His Hands Skim My Bare Arms. “just Bounce A Little When You Walk,” He Says, Kissing My Forehead, “and Pretend You’re Afraid Of Their Guns” —another Kiss Between My Eyebrows— “and Act Like The Shrinking Violet You Could Never Be ”—a Kiss On My Cheek— “and You’ll Be Fine.

I Try To Leave Some Space In My Mind For Things To Surprise Me Or Change My Mind, I Think That's Important.

But Maybe What I Saw As Fearless Was Actually Fear Under Control.

I Have Discovered That Sitting Still Leaves Little Spaces For The Grief To Get In, So I Stay Busy.

He Doesn’t Scowl, But His Mouth Is So Tense That I Know He’s Angry With Me. 'don’t Be An Idiot,' He Says. 'an Idiot?' Is He Talking About The Blanket? 'you Were Lying.