interlocking

being tattooed for the sixth time

by the same artist

and as a grouping of seven

to nine needles drives ink

into my skin again and again

my tattoo artist and i

talk about how

pain forces you to become

aware that you are present

in your body

i am not just a meat puppet

piloted from afar

i am the gray matter inside my skull

the blood in my veins

the scars on my arms

my body fits together so well

my fingers slot together

like they were meant to be

crooked on one side from

a heavy old car door

where you cried more than i did

because hurting other people

is such a terrible feeling

i still think our fingers

fit together better

mine clammy from fear

and yours warm because of

the fear you were shedding

with every step we took together

and all my parts

attached as they should be

like my hand on your face

yours in my hair

back to back on a mattress

better fit to one

but i never felt as warm as

i did with your body

pressed against mine

and my heart skipped beats

like your lips pulled me back

into my body

from where ever i had been

my breath and yours

mixing like they were always

meant to ya know

if i could somehow

climb inside the shield

that our love creates around us

everything interlocked

like it’s meant to be

then i would be

even more okay

and i am trying to

find a way to tell you

all this without my voice shaking

though that may take some time

which is all we have left

between us now