they are trying words, tying words.  tethering my veins to yours, 

you try for a heaving utterance. 

you pick and choose your words; 

a hand-written thank you. 

you pull an apology out if my efflorescence 

but you cannot see how it makes me ache 

more than the feeling 

of your nails in my back. 


I reach out. 

I am still thanking you.