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. 

quivering, 

I reach out. 

I am still thanking you.