To nestle in a hello
with sharp teeth memories,
scrapes against my heart
in such a slow grace
that I must remember
myself-
hiding in the scars.
Embedded in a cross knit lines
and your name
is the perfect cross-stitch pattern.
I pull at the threads
of your halfway goodbye
dangling like a limp tongue
between your two chapped lips.
I never knew love
to blister upon the touch
until I shook your hand
and you introduced me to hell
in monthly installments.
And now I see you,
in a constant reflection
as you wedge yourself
between our friends.
I understand a safety net now
and know mine isn’t here;
in this moment,
so I will need to discover
a place away from sharp teeth, crooked smiles,
and mislabeled emotions.
Poetic Trials 