breasts pressed against your chest
with little daylight stretch marks
peeking through the crooks
and the cheap fan shakes
sun from all the rooms
we were children in different states
six years apart
and you climbed trees while I
ran along dirty streets
hearing my name called
from soft mouth alleyways
bridges
and other things too
ugly things, both of us
where traffic and unpaid bills
brought bruises and bottles
today I will claw you out from inside me
soak until you dull against my skin
and then take you to me again
over like this
I can tell you mine
until you mistake them for yours
press the same bruises I have into your skin
until you recognize me
until we’re the same
here in the light