calloused fingers press softly into the skin

of my collarbone. the skin bends and gives;

hidden bone solid and unwavering. earth unrelenting.

there is a version of you that lasts,

somewhere in my dreams. a skeleton that sits

safe in its coffin; soft tissue gone, but collagen and calcium remaining.

saltwater rests on your lips,

the burn of cologne seared into my nose.

we have left each other worse than we found each other.

if we woke up in a past,

where your hands never tucked hair behind my ear

and my stumbling mind never took you down in its fall,

would you look for me?

even if we have knocked breaks into each other’s bones

are we not also made into what we are meant to be?

the world hasn’t stopped spinning

and my bones still rest beneath my skin.

different, maybe, but lasting. persistent.

i would look for you.