you grow when i kiss you
squashyou.
your right eye holds a lonely grain of black
outside its iris, fallen
out of the nest.

you face the heater when you sleep
i can see that scab, growing
i can’t stop
myself from picking, tearing
peeling away crushed edges moving
onto tender red beneath.

i scratch but you leave marks
it hurts best on my fingers
where i bend reach. i need
to soothe with what burns me
my blood, it pools
in the cracks of my hands
these fingers still somehow rough

you sweetly listen as i rub away.