Wound not like a ribbon, but like a faulty watch. Wound not like a gaping hole, but like
a pinprick. I suffer a long loss, interspersed with tiny victories. Blood like a faulty tap

dripping water. I still love you obviously. At least enough to tell everyone about it.
At least enough to claw at the wheel when I drive past your house.

Wound not like a noose, but like a necktie . I don’t hold your hand but I do think about it, twin sisters at the end of a long hallway. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever, I don’t care.
    

    
Another for good measure, another, just to be sure. Pushing every button until I find the one that makes you explode into a million pieces. Selfish girls always get what they want,

for some reason. Wound not like a bleeding gash, but like a broken bone. Held you in the back of my head like a ring holds a diamond- otherwise purposeless. I want to pluck your grandfather

from his bed and stand him straight like a man, like a mannequin. I want to drive you to work. Wound, wound, wound. Like a song. Like a shudder. Like a dance. Cloudgapping and toasters-

strudels, baths in rose scented water, tapping my nails on the glass case at work, one two three four five. I used to bite deep crescents into my palms- tethered to the ground by the comfort of

my jaw. I used to beat bruises into my hip bones. Okay, I lied. I still do when the opportunity arises. I know pleasure and I know guilt- they are the best of friends. I know pleasure because

I know guilt- the inverse being true as well. Riding your coattails all the way to the bank. I want to hold your hand,but I don’t, but I do think. About you. About the things you say.
    
    
    
About hormones and what they do to bodies. Wound like- a reveal, like curtains pulled back- the flesh unveiled. Admission. honesty. This is what it really is. This is what it was the whole time.

Red. Wound. Wound. Tight around some sort of answer. The award winning failure. Nationally recognized. Spark of talent. Another canine head dipped for another heavy collar.

Begging for you to take me and keep me and make me yours. Begging for the wound. Begging for the ribbon. Begging for hallways and diamonds and hands and hormones.