My tongue will unspool memories and they won't be gentle, but she will receive them gently.
I will skim my knuckles on her forearm and silently wish her skin were concrete, then at least the moment would be permanent.
I once heard a fable of a teenage girl in the neighboring town who carved her boyfriends name into her pelvis.
Sick was my second thought, but love was my first.
She's carved herself into me without even trying, without even knowing.
covrigaru is a gay/bigender writer based in brooklyn, ny. they were a lambda literary emerging LGBTQ voices nonfiction fellow and writer-in-residence in 2014 and 2017, respectively. their work has appeared or is forthcoming in the kaaterskill basin review, TQ review, stitch, emerge and cosmonauts avenue.